


An Heir to the Throne

by azareth



Category: Luke Cage (TV), Marvel
Genre: Brutal Murder, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Drama, Guns, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Older Woman/Younger Man, References to Drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-08-23 18:28:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 45,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20247349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azareth/pseuds/azareth
Summary: Mariah and Shades are expecting their first child together.For plausibility, Mariah is in her 50s and Shades is mid 40s.Everything in season 2 occurs. Changes/additions are: Tilda’s poison fails to kill Mariah (they save her on time). Shades does time due to another loophole in his proffer. A few years later, both he and Mariah are bailed out of prison by a mysterious character known as The Benefactor.





	1. Positive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mariah has been sick for a few weeks and Shades thinks it's more than food poisoning.

“What the hell is this?”

At her age, Mariah Dillard was expecting a little more respect from the man she shared her business and bed with, than to be presented with a crumpled up brown paper bag.

“Just open it,” Shades said, his voice quiet. 

He moved deeper inside the apartment and took a seat at the dining table. Fingers slid upward to remove his sleek sunglasses, so that he could focus his gaze on his woman.

“I don’t have time for your dead birds, Shades,” Mariah snapped, turning from him. 

She went to the fridge and opened it, realizing standing right in front of it felt particularly nice on her warm skin. The hot flashes had been frequent enough to notice. She figured it was related to the stomach bug that had kept her down all last week, and she was just about over it.

“It’s not a dead bird.” Shades watched her from his place, knowing she was not hiding the way she sought respite. “I think you got more than a stomach bug, mama. I’ve never seen you this sick.”

“Yeah?” she hollered back, “well, old people stay getting sick. More easily than you. I thought you knew that.”

Shades turned his face away, like he did every time she dismissed him. He waited, knowing it only took a bit of patience with his woman to get through to her.

Mariah groaned audibly from where she stood and finally shut the fridge, moving to the liquor cabinet to pour herself a glass of scotch. Shades watched from his place, judging.

“You sure that’s a good idea?” he hummed, reaching for the little pharmacy bag. He made his way toward her just as she was bringing the glass to her lips.

“Why, you want one?” the woman teased, taking a long draught. 

She turned to face him when ushered and raised her chin. Shades was taller than her and strong. He was firm and sinewy, like a man his age should be. She had always liked that about him -- it made him great in bed, because he could keep up. What she didn’t like was when he tried to baby her, like now, taking away her glass of scotch and setting it down on the counter.

The man replaced it with the pharmacy bag and jutted his chin toward it. “Open it,” he said softly. “It’s important.”

Mariah sighed. “Fine, nigga.” 

She shot him an annoyed look and then ripped the bag open. The package inside made her pause, then laugh, then pause again. 

“Did you hit your head?” she snorted.

“No, I didn’t.” Shades looked dead serious. “Like I said, I’ve never seen you this sick. Maybe it’s crazy but I’d rather play it safe and know what’s going on than keep guessing it’s a stomach bug. Stomach bugs don’t last weeks--”

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” she said more loudly. Sometimes that was the only way to get this quiet man’s attention. “Do you know how old I am? I passed all that, Shades. I had Tilda, remember? She was my first and she sure as hell is going to remain my last.”

Mariah moved away from Shades and reached for her drink again. Annoyed, Shades knocked it out of her grip. It went crashing and breaking into the sink and she yelped.

“What’s wrong with you today?” she asked him, her eyes wide.

“Me? What’s wrong with you?” Shades got in her face and stared her down. He was done playing. “You don’t think you’re pregnant, that’s on you. But if you are, and that baby is mine, I wanna know about it. So, go to the bathroom and take the test.”

They squared off, both strong willed and unrelenting, similar in that regard. It was what attracted them to each other and Mariah had noticed that, anytime she failed to really listen to what Shades was saying to her, she ended up regretting it somehow. Her eyes narrowed and she really listened. Here was a man, young 40s with her, eager to build an empire, and she, his queen, was sick. Was it really wrong of him to start to freak out and think maybe, even at her age, that she might be pregnant? They’d talked about their legacy before and she had been all about it then.

“Fine,” Mariah sighed, “I’ll take it. But you wait here. I don’t need you getting your hopes up for nothing because it is a damn stomach bug.”

Shades nodded and remained by the counter, while she went off toward the bathroom. It was pristine in there. Mariah tore the pregnancy test packaging and quickly scanned the instructions. They’d been different back in her day when she found out about Tilda. She squatted over the toilet and did her business on the stick, then set it down and waited. By the time she washed her hands she already had her heart set on throwing the damn thing away and telling Shades he was wrong, but knowing him, he’d probably put on latex gloves and fetch the damn pee stick. It wouldn’t be the first time he got his hands dirty.

In the kitchen, Shades paced back and forth. He was a little nervous because, if his suspicions were right, Mariah would be in for a rough couple of months. He was already planning ahead, thinking about doing way more for the business and Harlem’s Paradise. He would want her to go abroad. She loved Italy. Or maybe Monte Carlo. She could relax there and have the best care available to her while he ran things. There was much she could do outside of New York anyway and he would convince her of that, so she wouldn’t overstress an already stressful situation.

He was considering making himself a drink like Mariah had, when a loud curse cut through the apartment from the bathroom.

“SHIT!”

Shades looked up, a hopeful smile forming, and made his way to the bathroom.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Mariah said, hyperventilating and feeling nauseous, and pissed off at the same time. When she saw Shades, she held up the test in his face. “It’s positive! Do you see this? You did this to me, Shades! You knocked me up!”

He was barely able to contain his smirk. “Hey, hey…” he said, reaching for her shoulders. “It’s OK. Let me see.” But he didn’t need to see. She was definitely pregnant. They were going to have a kid. His kid. He was going to be a father. “Come here, mama.” Reaching for Mariah, Shades took her in his arms and squeezed, safe, soothing. 

“I’m so happy right now,” he admitted, sensing a fullness come to him. He kissed Mariah’s hair and kissed her forehead, drawing away enough to look at her. “It’s gonna be OK. We’ll make it work.”

“We better,” she sighed, somewhat consoled, and looking at him uncertainly. “I ain’t doing the baby mama thing again, so you better own up to this egg.”

At that, Shades laughed and kissed her. They were going to be parents.


	2. 8 Weeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shades takes Mariah for her first prenatal visit.

About two weeks later, Shades personally drove Mariah to Bronx-Lebanon, a private hospital where her medical records could be safely transferred from Harlem. They both agreed it was for the best that she was not seen going to her regular hospital and Shades had been very quick to help make the arrangements. He didn’t trust anyone to drive them without running their mouth and, considering the way Mariah kept her hand on his in the car, neither did she. 

The waiting area had posters of female torsos with protruding bellies, detailing the inside with embryos at various stages of development. Shades thought it looked just like the biology books, though his own education was less than advanced. So, he pretended not to focus on the details of each picture, keeping his sunglasses and scowl on. Beside him, Mariah had her reading glasses on and was busy tapping at her iPhone screen. Once in a while, she’d twitch or huff, then slide her fingers over the screen to continue.

Shades knew she was less than thrilled to be here, considering how he had to convince her to make the appointment. A week earlier, the shouting competition with her primary care doctor in Harlem, about the failed IUD, had proven less than inspiring. But, he was glad she had come. If she had asked him right then, he might even have admitted he was nothing but glad lately. Glad she was pregnant. Glad that, for once, they would have something they made together. If there was anything to make them act as a unit, it would be family building. He knew family was important to the woman and, while the idea of starting one had not crossed his mind before, it was surprising to observe himself react so positively to it. 

“Ms Dillard?” announced a nurse kindly, “Doctor Ramani will see you now.”

“Ah, good.” Mariah removed her glasses, cast Shades a quick glance, and packed her things in her purse. “Here we go.”

Shades rose languidly and swaggered forth, hand hovering close to his woman’s lower back. It occurred to him that Mariah’s former married name was on her medical records and he wondered if that would change at any point. One thing he knew for sure, his child was not going to be a ‘Dillard’. Hell no. His child was going to be Puerto Rican and Black, a Salazar Alvarez, and a Stokes, if Mariah wanted. He thought to himself that ‘Stokes-Alvarez’ had a nice ring to it.

Doctor Ramani turned out to be a fine sister with whom Mariah got along splendidly. Shades waited in a chair while they drew blood, took some urine samples, and did a host of other tests, until Mariah was permanently back in the room. He approached and took a closer seat when she was made to recline on an examination table and answer questions about her general health and morning sickness. Earlier, Doctor Ramani had, after introducing herself to the both of them, encouraged them to ask questions at any point.

“How long until it passes?” Shades asked, not abruptly, though it was clear neither woman expected to hear from him.

“Well, we’ll run tests to confirm, but I’d say she is about 6 to 8 weeks along,” Doctor Ramani replied, “so that should leave another couple of weeks of morning sickness. Everyone is different, however, though for most women, it clears up by week 16.”

He looked and caught Mariah’s eye when she replied, “16 weeks too long, if you ask me. I’ve been on this ride before and I know the way."

“What should we start doing, then?” Shades asked. “See, in my mind, I figure she should put her feet up for the next couple of months and eat whatever she wants.”

Mariah scoffed. “You must be out your damn mind. Put my feet up? Me? You know I have to work.”

“So, what should we do, doc?” Shades pressed.

“I-I’m sorry,” Doctor Ramani said, confused, “are you the father?”

Mariah shot the woman a guarded look, as though expecting judgement. Shades, on the other hand, barely so much as flinched. One would think he was just waiting to be asked. He removed his sunglasses and with a smirk, said softly, “Oh, you bet.”

When Mariah turned to him there was not a word to describe the pride on her face. Shades soaked it right up, reached for her hand, and kept it firmly in his own. Doctor Ramani quickly recovered from her blunder and advised a healthy diet high in folic acid, prenatal supplements to boost appetite, and to avoid alcohol, drugs, and second-hand smoke as much as possible. She also gave a list of natural remedies for morning sickness, typing them all up for Mariah.

“I have a question,” Mariah said, “do you fine folks tie tubes after delivery? Cause I think I want this one to be my last.”

“Ah, uh,” Doctor Ramani stammered, “yes, there is a protocol in place for that, but we strongly advise that patients take time to consider, to be absolutely sure they would like to have the procedure done.”

“I’m sure,” Mariah said.

Shades watched her from his place, uncertain how those words left him. On one hand he was, of course, elated to have a baby on the way. But on the other, it was somewhat disappointing to know Mariah already didn’t want any more. He hadn’t been given the chance to even think about more and although this current package was a surprise, it was a happy one, for him. Certainly this was more complicated for Mariah, though he failed to see exactly why; he knew she had not been given a chance to raise Tilda and there were complexities to their relationship he did not yet understand.

“Ms Dillard,” Doctor Ramani said, “you are in very good health and in spite of your age, I think we’re really looking at a healthy pregnancy. Take some time to think it over and remember it can be done at any time. For now, I say try and enjoy this time as much as you can, and if you don’t have any further questions, I will see you both at the next appointment. We’ll be in touch with your results.”

“Very well, Doctor Ramani,” Mariah said, “Thank you so much.”

Shades rose and once more sent his eyes into hiding. When Mariah was all set, he held the door open for her and accompanied her to reception to sign any remaining forms. He was quiet in the car ride back and Mariah noticed. 

With a sigh, she tried to draw him out of it, asking, “What’s wrong?”

Shades kept his eyes on the road and, after a while, he said, “Tubes tied, huh?”

“Yes.” Mariah scoffed. “I didn’t want to be pregnant. You just caught me off guard but let me tell you, it is not fun. I’m going to be sick another few weeks and then bloated for six months before this thing claws its way out of me. I’m accepting this pregnancy and taking it in stride, but I didn’t ask for this.”

“Then, why didn’t you do it after Tilda?” Shades asked, sensing her stiffen.

It was a good question and they both knew it. Rather than answering, Mariah told him not to get so caught up in his head. “Child isn’t even born yet and you’re already thinking of more.”

“I just thought, maybe, I would have a say--”

“Oh, like I had a say when you knocked me up?”

Briefly, Shades looked at her, as if unsure this argument was meant to be had with him. “You still mad about that?” he said, genuinely puzzled. “The hell did you expect to happen with me breaking your back every night, huh?”

“I thought the damn IUD would work. How was I supposed to know it got all messed up?” Mariah threw up her hands. “I was probably already pregnant by the time I had it removed. I should have known something was up with that thing.”

“Well,” Shades said, “it’s done. We’re expecting. That means from this moment, there is no ‘you’, or ‘me’. There is only ‘us’ and that child. And it’s time we started acting exclusively like a unit.”

Mariah quieted and for a long while, she looked out her window at the passing road. They drove through Inwood by 207th, passing busted fire hydrants bursting with water. Unable to tell what she was thinking, Shades reached for her at the next red light. He gently stroked her cheek and he turned to catch her eye.

“What’s on your mind, mama?” he hummed.

“Nothing.” Mariah made a face like she had a nice, unrelated thought, and she was just waiting to share it. Her dark eyes turned to fix Shades and there was a smirk playing not too far on her beautiful mouth. “I like the way you done told Doctor Ramani you the baby daddy.” He snickered, took her hand, and kissed her knuckles as she teased him. “Are you ready to be a thug daddy, Hernan? Hmm? ‘Papi’ to little Hernan Jr.?”

The man shook his head, a smile evident on his face. “I’m ready,” he said firmly. “I told you, we’ll make this work. I want this family. I don’t care what it takes to protect it.”

“Then,” Mariah said, “we need to talk about the club, the business, our enemies, and our legacy. We’re going to have to see eye to eye on everything. Our future depends on it. You hear me?”

“Loud and clear.” Shades smiled to himself. “Let’s get to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter from Shades's perspective reveals he does not know the circumstance behind Tilda's birth (uncle Pete). The next may be from Mariah's POV.


	3. Inheritance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mariah and Shades discuss their finances and business, but they forget their enemies, until one turns up.

The current state of affairs for the Queen of Harlem was quite grim and, if she were to be candid, Mariah absolutely knew it. Not that pregnancy had forced her in any way to come to terms with the fact that she was broke, but it certainly gave finding a permanent solution more urgency. Combined with the fact that her hormones were basically playing Russian roulette with her and it was all she could do not to rip off Shades’ head pretty much anytime she saw him. What did he expect? Surely not a sweet talking pregnant lady. Plus, he had done this to her -- she liked the act, yes, just not the result, -- and deep down she was still a little pissed about it.

Mariah would have to let it go at some point. A few months ago, she would have attributed her hot flashes to stress and anxiety, combined with her age. Now she knew it was all that, plus the life she nurtured. It was almost too much, but Mariah was strong. She had handled worse in her life, anyway. So, she kept a healthy diet, stayed on top of her prenatal visits, and as promised, sat down with Shades to seriously discuss their problems.

They needed money somewhat desperately. She had assets, yes, but that was about it. Her income was not what it used to be and it would take time to build it back up. Shades had his smarts. Mariah knew he was going to put them to good use, especially now, with a baby on the way. The club’s title and deed was still under her name so, he asked her one more time to transfer ownership to him. Mariah surprised him and agreed. Maybe she just wanted to see the look on his face. She didn’t think she’d easily forget it, for there was an innocence to it that spoke deeply of why he wore sunglasses so often.

The decision to transfer ownership had not been as hard as she thought. After all these years, she was ready to let go of Harlem’s Paradise. Luke Cage could have it, for all she cared, as long as the place remained the crown jewel of Harlem. Shades seemed confident they could make it bring them double the income it was now doling out. He would take care of it and she trusted him to do what was necessary.

They spoke about the paintings. There was Cornell’s Biggie piece and that Basquiat, the source of so much anxiety and resentment between them. Shades said the best way to let go of their old strife was to sell the paintings. This, too, was a proposition Mariah had heard before and once refused to listen to. Now, she crossed it off her list. The paintings would be sold and bring in large sums of clean money for their coffers. 

And then Shades brought up the gun business.

“Or what’s left of it,” he said. “Harlem’s Paradise is essential to that action but we need to be of one mind about this. I can’t get out of this game just yet and I need to know what you want.”

“I want what I had,” Mariah said. “I want to be back in Harlem’s good graces and I want to lead in politics. I want my influence back. I know I can’t wash my hands clean of what’s already happened but a gun business is no longer something I want on my resume.”

“Then, let me handle it,” Shades suggested.

Mariah realized at that point in the conversation, this was exactly what he wanted, to be put in charge of everything, while she focused on what she really wanted to do, and the pregnancy. Looking at him, she could tell he had gone over every detail in his head. Though her initial reaction was to shut him down on running the gun business and just sell it, to remove it from their history, Mariah recognized that Shades excelled in the streets. 

She was going to ask him where he got up thinking he could handle all this business by himself, when it occurred to her that they were starting a family - that’s where he got the idea. She assessed the situation from his perspective and knew, without a shadow of a doubt, Shades wanted to take care of everything he could, so they could stably welcome a baby. Put like that, it was kind of sweetly unexpected, though there was something to be said about a man willing to step up and take charge, especially when his woman needed no reminding of just how powerful she was.

“Hernan,” Mariah said. “This gangster life is not something I want to bring a child into. I need to make myself clear here because this is non negotiable. If you’re going to handle our guns and the money they bring in, you better have an exit plan.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that by the time this baby is born, I want to be legit. Either the mess is completely behind us, or the mob is so deep, even Jesus can’t trace it up to either one of us.” Mariah wanted something real, a family unlike the one she came up in. She no longer wanted the ugliness of the Stokes name, no matter how hard it came back to haunt her. “I want to be a family, Hernan, that’s all I’m saying. And I want you to be around for it.”

Shades had this little, unbearably cute smile, reserved for the rare occasion he was absolutely disarmed. Mariah could still remember the first time she saw it. It was not long after Cornell’s death and Candace Miller was paid money for her story to the police. After Candace got out of the car, Mariah told Shades what she planned for her and her family, should the girl fold on the lie. She expressed it would be a shame to stage a home invasion, and bring down the real estate value of a place Ellington and Basie had once lived in, and Shades, turning from the driver’s seat to look back at her, displayed that little smile, like he was so damn proud of the political gangster his girl was.

This time, when Mariah saw the smile, she pondered the way it softly creased the corners of his warm brown eyes. Like the rest of him, she found those lines to be attractive. It was like a different person was sitting across her, the man and provider he could have been, were it not for the hand of fate. In a moment’s clarity, Mariah imagined seeing that smile again in six months, in the delivery room. She wondered at the kind of father Shades would make.

“I’ll take care of it,” Shades said quietly. “The empire is built but it’s broken. It needs mending. And when I’m done with it, not only will the money be legit, no one in the streets will question your reign.”

“Our reign,” Mariah corrected.

Shades looked at her then like his heart was warmed and he was proud at the same time, like he was finally settling in the position he wanted to be in, as her man and her equal. He took her hand in his and pressed his mouth to her knuckles, just as a subject might kiss the ring of a king.

Shades was different since that conversation, mostly absent. Some days Mariah wouldn’t even find any evidence of him until she awoke in the middle of the night, to find his prone form sprawled beside her, taking up more damn space than he needed. When she did see him, he moved differently, like a man on a mission, determined to get the job done. When the money from the paintings was in her account, they celebrated, and the next day, still glowing from the good fuck, Mariah opened a joint account for them and transfered the funds. She called Ben Donovan that afternoon to draw up the paperwork, transfering Harlem’s Paradise wholly to Mr. Hernan Enrique Salazar Alvarez.

Mariah saw even less of Shades after this. He was sporadically in contact with her, which would have been fine, if he wasn't so damn terrible at texting back. Honestly, how difficult was it to answer 'Boy you coming home tonight or what'? Then again, considering she went to work daily, Mariah did not exactly have time to account for his every step. But, sometimes, when she did not see him, she missed him. Other times, she doubted some of her decisions and wondered if it would not have been wise to remain more involved with the club. When she was feeling particularly hormonal, she wondered if he was getting cold feet about being a father. That led to thoughts spiraling out of control and repeatedly calling his cell until she got a hold of him, only to learn he was caught up in meetings, and was planning to call her.

One evening, after a particularly successful week of fundraising, Mariah recklessly put on a tight dress and got dolled up for Harlem’s Paradise. She’d heard from Shades earlier that day -- a one word answer, his signature, to her paragraph, -- and knew he would be at the club entertaining tonight. Mariah didn’t give a shit about that. She was feeling herself and in the mood to listen to some good music and, when her partner was done, enjoy an evening with him after having barely seen him all week. It was a well deserved break.

With her hair down and nails done to match the elegant indigo dress, Mariah felt absolutely stunning when she graced the club with her presence. All the doors were drawn open for her and the place was booming. Sure enough, when she looked up to VIP, Shades was there, surrounded by faces she did not recognize. He didn’t see her until she reached the security guard upstairs. Mariah initially planned to perch at one of the exclusive balconies, and enjoy the view and music until Shades was through with his meeting but, after taking one look at his man spread over there, she changed her mind.

“Good evening, Miss Mariah, how you doing?” the man guarding VIP said.

She looked up, surprised by the familiarity of his voice.

“Hey, big man.” Mariah smiled at Sugar and touched his powerful arm. “It’s good to have you back.”

The Queen of Harlem crossed past the henchman and locked eyes with Shades. At once, he drew to his feet in his usual languor, in spite of the surprised look on his face, and tucked up the first button of his sleek suit. Shades went to her with an outstretched hand and, before all to see, the two met in the middle of VIP and shared a kiss.

Shades leaned over to her ear and asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m just here for a good time,” she said brightly, “like the rest of these folks. Don’t let me interrupt your little rendez-vous.” Her eyes quickly scanned the people at VIP with whom Hernan met and saw that, in spite of how cool they tried to play it, they were simultaneously uncomfortable and surprised by her presence. She smirked, pleased with her gravitas.

“Would you like to join us?” Shades asked her, his hands on her hips, quite close to her belly.

“No.” Mariah shot him a confident look. She was only just starting to show, near the end of four months, though she’d had a bit of a belly to begin with. Leave it to this man to promote her pregnant ass for her. “I’ll let you get on. Just come find me later.”

Shades gave his consent in silence, depositing a chaste kiss to her cheek. With that, Mariah strutted off to another VIP box, which had been cleared out for her, to take in the night. When a hostess came up with a tray of martinis, Mariah reached for one and then halted. 

“Get me something virgin,” she ordered, without really thinking much further than the fact that she had to stay off alcohol. Surely, that’s how rumors started.

About twenty minutes later, Shades stalked her at the balcony where she sipped and enjoyed herself. He came up from behind and put a hand on the railing, the digits of his other hand smoothing over her belly. One would think he was the pregnant one.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” she said aloud. “You getting cold feet?”

Shades chuckled against her nape. “Never. I’ve been working, getting shit in order.”

“How’s that going, then?”

“So far so good. There’s some new players in town since we last ran the streets. Once I get them to see the benefit in doing business with us, well,” he drawled, hand moving to her backside, “let’s just say you’ve got a great future behind you.”

Mariah sputtered on her drink and turned to face him. There was a smirk on his face and she knew why it was there. Before she could say what was on her mind and then some, Shades pushed in closer, took her chin and pressed his lips to hers. They kissed for a few long moments, at the end of which he told her how regal she looked tonight. His voice was low and he smelled delightfully expensive and she could taste something sweet and minty on his breath. 

“I know you’re taking care of business,” she said, “but I’m gonna need you to start coming home to me more often.”

“Home,” Shades repeated, not quite a question. He took the railing in both hands, trapping Mariah in the lair of his bodily warmth, from which he peered down into her eyes.

She saw the smile start in his eyes. “Or at least text me a full sentence if you won’t be making it back,” Mariah said petulantly, as she always did when she knew she’d deeply stroked his ego, and needed him to come down from the high a little bit. “What am I supposed to do if some crazy breaks into the house? Call Crip Raggedy Ann Misty?”

Shades laughed at that and she chuckled with him. Mariah understood her man, his wants and needs. Shades had come from the gutters of nothing, making something of himself in the streets that raised him. She knew he wanted to be respected, to feel needed, and to be appreciated, as much as a man needed air. It hadn’t taken Mariah long to figure this out but, implementing it was a different beast. Now that they were expecting, she knew exactly what to do and say to keep him around.

“Let’s go to the office,” Shades said.

That was an invitation for sex if Mariah had ever heard one. And if she were to be honest with herself, this was the real reason she’d come to the club tonight. They went up and while Shades had a word with the door man -- hopefully giving strict orders not to be disturbed -- Mariah poked around the office. The Basquiat was gone, replaced by some generic but tasteful decoration. Most of the furniture remained intact but there were some additions to the large desk. Mariah went toward it and took a seat, only to be startled by a frame on the smooth surface of the expansive desk.

She remembered the day that picture was taken. Alex shot it, by accident more than anything, and it was only when he later showed it to Mariah, that she saw what he did. She and Shades were standing in the office, in front of the Red Kings Basquiat painting. His hand was at her hips and hers along his arms, and they were smiling at each other. Nothing more, just smiling. But their positions gave the illusion that they were both crowned. That was the picture Hernan chose for his desk. She took it and traced their faces fondly, realizing he probably didn’t have a single picture of her. But he had this.

It was so ridiculous and wonderful that Mariah could not help but laugh. “Hernan,” she called, “what kind of threat did it take for Alex to hand this over?”

Then she looked up to find a grim look on his face. They had a visitor. She must have come up while Shades chatted with the guard. Mariah stood, put down the photo, and scowled.

“What the hell do you want?” she snarled.

Tilda was wearing red and her hair was crowned in two thick puffs. She had a silver, almost metallic headband keeping her locks in place. She crossed past Shades to get deeper in the office and he followed closely after her, a hand close to the concealed gun at his side.

“What kind of welcome is that, Mommy?” Tilda asked, making her way over to sit on the large couch. “I just got back from Kingston. This place looks different than I remember.”

“Well, you should have stayed there with your little boyfriend. Or did you come back from hell with Bushmaster?” Mariah said. She was starting to feel agitated and her skin felt warm with an oncoming hot flash. Shades was at her side soon enough and his palm felt cool against hers.

“No,” Tilda smiled, “you’d know if John was here, trust me, Mommy. I see you’re still with your boy toy. How’s that American Gigolo life, Shades? Mommy feeding you enough?”

“You watch your mouth, missy,” Mariah snapped. “I don’t understand why your betraying ass is even back here.”

“And what I don’t understand,” Tilda said, her face darkening as she pointed at Shades, “is why he’s now the owner of my inheritance. Harlem’s Paradise belongs to the Stokes, Mommy, and last I checked, this gutter rat ain’t family.”

“Get out,” Mariah said, sensing Shades stiffen. She knew where this was going and did not need Hernan to find out the circumstances of Tilda’s birth like this. “You get out of this club, right now, Tilda. I’m not playing with you.”

Tilda laughed derisively and there was something beautiful and deadly about the sound. Mariah shivered, realizing she was different. Kingston had changed her, no doubt for the worse. She stood from the couch and sneered at her mother and Shades.

“I’ve come back to take what’s mine,” Tilda said. She paused, smiled, then said, “That’s what Uncle Pete would have wanted. Or should I say, ‘daddy’?”

“Get out,” Mariah screamed. “You get the hell out.” 

She tried to make her way to Tilda to shove her out but Shades held her back, until Tilda strutted out of the office. Mariah shouted obscenities at her, messing up her hair, her mouth lopsided in anger. Shades held her back until Tilda was downstairs and then he released her. With a frown, he went to the door guard and barked an order. Tilda was seen out of the club but the damage was already done. 

Mariah sat on the desk, wiping her eyes, just now realizing she’d started crying when she grew hysterical. Her head pounded furiously, she was warm all over and very dizzy. Shades approached with a frown, telling her everything was going to be alright, but Mariah didn’t seem to hear him. He placed the back of his palm on her brow and she found it was frigid.

“You’re not well,” Shades said. “Let’s get you home.”

So, Mariah rose and for a moment, she wished she had taken Shades’ hand when he lent it. The next thing she knew, her vision started going dark and closing in on her, just like the old movies did when they ended. Her last thought was regretting not discussing their enemies with Shades a few weeks prior. Just before losing consciousness, she heard Shades repeatedly call her name, and Mariah wished she could answer him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always felt like the end of season 2 showed a lot of potential for Tilda. Wanted to explore that more as the heir story unfolds. The change I have made is: she left for Kingston along with Bushmaster. I am also omitting Luke inheriting Harlem's Paradise.


	4. Next of Kin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shades learns why Mariah really killed Cornell.

It was funny the way one could come so fucking close to having everything, only to watch it all erode, brick by brick. For someone like Shades, that was just life. Things always started out decent, took a turn for the better, then suddenly got messy, and way out of his control. People were particularly fond of betraying, or tossing him aside, delegating him a viewer to the tragedy of his reality, until he took matters in his own hands. Killing Zip, after Diamondback cast him aside for flying too close to the sun, was taking matters in his own hands. Killing Che, as much as it killed him inside, was taking matters into his own hands. 

He used to wonder if things would ever go his way, if he would ever have it all. Then, fortune smiled on him and Mariah finally agreed to do things his way. They sold the paintings, the club and business were his, and the baby was his. If Tilda hadn’t turned up, he might have been suspicious at life. She raised questions Shades hadn’t entertained, but there was no time to ponder them as Mariah collapsed in the office. Shades caught her, thankfully mid-fall, and called an ambulance. They wouldn’t let him ride with her but, looking back on that, it was nothing compared to the shit they tried to pull on him at the hospital. 

Shades was not listed as Mariah’s emergency contact and next of kin. That meant, to his great aggravation, he couldn’t see her as soon as he might have liked. In fact, he couldn’t do shit but stand around and wait. Shades did not know how long was spent pacing the hospital corridors, trying to keep his cool, thinking about Mariah and that baby, trying not to fucking shoot somebody just so they would let him see her, as he waited for Alex to show up. When the bright eyed man arrived, profusely apologizing for missing the calls, Shades seized him by the collar and pinned him aggressively on a wall.

“I need to see her.”

Shades would not have to repeat himself. Alex made his way to inquire with the hospital staff and sorted the necessary paperwork. They were led within minutes to a waiting area close to where Mariah was and a nurse told them a doctor would come with an update.

Alex sat, looking tired as a man woken in the middle of the night, and Shades continued his pacing. He thought he’d kicked the habit but that clearly was not the case. When the doctor, a handsome, Sterling K. Brown type of brother, finally came, Shades was immediately and expectantly upon him.

“Are you the next of kin, Mr. Alex Wesley?” the doctor asked.

“No, that’s me.” Alex came to stand close to Shades, who was just about ready to smack the next person who said ‘next of kin’ in his presence again. “How is she, Doctor?”

“Stable,” the doctor said. “It looks like her blood sugar levels caused her loss of consciousness. It’s a good thing she was brought in so quickly though.”

“Is she going to be okay?” Shades asked.

“She is, but I would like to check her levels, and make sure there are no issues. If anything comes up, it would be wise to follow up with her primary care.” The doctor looked at Alex. “Mr. Wesley, there seems to be a mistake on one of the forms you filled out for Ms Dillard.”

“Mistake?” Alex frowned. “I’m sorry, I filled them to the best of my ability.”

“Are you aware Ms Dillard is expecting?”

Alex gaped, speechless, and turned to Shades who did not flinch. He could have told them that shit, had they let him fill out the damn forms. Why in the hell was Alex her next of kin? They weren’t even family. He supposed Alex was better than Tilda but still, he was kind of salty about it.

“Is the baby okay?” Shades asked. “What did you guys do, hm?”

“A-ah, well,” the doctor stammered. “We didn’t administer anything harmful, if that’s what you mean. It just would have helped in our preliminary scans. And this event should be noted to the OB-GYN. The baby is fine, sir. They’re both fine, really, and she just needs some rest.”

After taking in the news, Shades asked when he could see her. In his world, things he could not touch were not real.

“Soon,” the doctor said. “A nurse will clear her for visitors shortly.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Alex said.

Once the man had gone, Shades tried to decide whether it was worth pacing up and down this hallway like a jailbird.

“Congratulations,” Alex remarked quietly. He’d gone back to sit down and looked up at the man. “I didn’t know you guys were expecting.”

Shades massaged his knuckles patiently, waiting for the nurse to come, and he wondered what they had to do in there before patients could see visitors. It was funny how unfamiliar with hospitals he was. But he knew the ins and outs of places like Sing Sing and Seagate like the palm of his hand.

“Although,” Alex went on, “that explains why Mariah hasn’t been sharing a drink lately. Plus, I was wondering who put all the liquor in the top cabinets, too. No way she can reach all the way up there. So, how far along is she?”

Shades turned to Alex like he wasn’t really sure why the man was still here. Then again, if it weren’t for him, they might not have made it to this waiting area without causing a stir. Mariah would not have liked the noise and the mess and thus, for her, Shades answered Alex curtly.

“Four months.”

“Wow.” Alex exhaled noisily, genuinely surprised. “You guys are good at keeping secrets. So, is it a boy or a girl?”

“You need to stop talking,” Shades snapped. Though his words were soft they were firm. He made one small lap a few paces away and then returned.

Alex frowned and quieted. He checked his phone and sighed again. Shades could feel him watching and he knew the man wanted to say something else. Alex was merely considering whether it was worth the risk. One could never tell with Shades, quietly smiling one minute, shoots in the head the very next.

“Any preference?” Alex ventured carefully.

Shades stopped pacing and frowned, not understanding what Alex was asking him.

“On whether you want a son or a daughter,” Alex went on, infatigable. 

Realizing the only way to silence Alex might very well be shooting him, Shades considered getting his gun. On second thought, he sighed, popped the button of his suit jacket, and resignedly sat beside Alex.

“No,” he said honestly, peeling off his sunglasses, “not really.” The ray bans were tucked in his suit pocket, safely secured until he needed them again.

“I bet you want a son,” Alex joked, leaning back in his seat. He cast Shades a smile, saying, “Little man Shades Jr., am I right?”

Shades scoffed at such a thing, trying to decide whether to humor Alex. He supposed with everything else going on, his preference on what the baby turned out to be was not exactly high on the list. Truthfully, so long as Mariah and the baby were healthy, post delivery onwards, the baby’s sex didn’t matter to Shades. But, Alex did get him thinking about it for some time.

A son would be wonderful. Shades would teach him how to be a man and give the boy everything he lacked growing up. He’d be protective of a daughter. If she looked anything like Mariah, which in his book equaled to the epitome of a beautiful woman, she’d be spoiled absolutely rotten. What was quite clear, to him, was his biggest job as a father: to be there for his kid. His entire generation didn’t know or have a relationship with their fathers and Shades had no intention of repeating the cycle.

“You don’t know shit,” he told Alex, at length. “I never thought I’d be a father. I barely knew my own. Then, we found out Mariah was pregnant and, all of a sudden, it just made sense.”

“Made sense, how?”

Shades pondered that for a moment. When he thought of the trajectory of his life, it was difficult to pinpoint what he was looking for all this time. The stability and normalcy of a good home as a child; money, acceptance, and a sense of belonging as a teenager; respect and legacy, as a man. These were concepts to Shades, defined by others attaining them. And it was all cute but, there was always something missing, a piece of the puzzle. 

Mariah unexpectedly getting pregnant was a game changer, because the missing piece clicked into place for him. Shades didn’t know he wanted this until it happened. He may never have thought he’d be a father, but damn if he did not want to be the best dad he could now, the father he never had. The best part was, he knew instinctively he could do it. There wasn’t even a little bit of doubt in his mind.

“Things are finally the way they’re supposed to be.” He turned to catch Alex’s eye and they shared a smile. “And I’m here for it.”

Alex nodded slowly, as man who understands. “Respect.” In a brief and rare armistice, their fists bumped.

Soon, a nurse approached and said, “Ms Dillard is ready for visitors now.”

Shades stood and buttoned his suit jacket, so integral to concealing his firearm. He cast Alex, who gestured that he get on first, a nod. Shades followed the nurse to the patient room and went right to Mariah’s side. She lay in bed looking deep in thought until she saw him. The light in her eyes dimmed somewhat, as her thoughts grew distant.

“How are you feeling?” Shades asked her.

“I’m thirsty.” Mariah gestured toward a side table with a supply of water. “Can you get that for me, please?”

Shades obliged and filled the plastic cup. Mariah drank deeply from it and asked for a refill. Once satiated, she rested her head back and stared ahead, the weight of her thoughts once more returning to her. Shades peeled off his jacket and draped it neatly over the chair he intended to occupy.

“The doctor says it’s your blood sugar levels,” he mentioned quietly. “Let’s get that checked out with Ramani.”

Mariah hummed in response and Shades sat, observing the smooth shapes of her beautiful face. He knew the night’s events weighed on her mind but, Shades had learned better than to press a sensitive topic, especially when it would be broached within minutes. Mariah lay quietly for some time and then drew a sharp breath.

Without looking at him, she said solemnly, “I don’t know if I want this baby, Hernan.”

The man’s spine grew rigid. For all his thoughts on fatherhood making sense for him, Mariah’s desire to bring a child into the world was even more important. Shades had no idea where that statement came from but, judging from the slight, wide eyed expression he assumed, this cut him quite unexpectedly. Still, Mariah had a stressful night and this may very well have been her untamed thoughts speaking. So, rather than asking her what she meant, he gave her the silent space to continue.

“I never wanted Tilda,” Mariah smiled sadly, “but along she came, anyway. I never told you, but she was born before I married Jackson. The Johnsons raised her. I wasn’t ready for her then and I don’t think I’m ready for this one, either.” 

She finally turned to Shades and he saw that she was starting to cry. It was real and raw, something he first observed the night she fell from grace, shortly after Cornell died. He remembered what Tilda said in the office, that Uncle Pete would have wanted for her to own Harlem’s Paradise. And then, she had said something else, of a most unsettling nature, which Mariah now confirmed. Shades ran a hand over his mouth as the weight of that finally settled on his shoulders.

“Your Uncle,” he murmured. “Pistol Pete Stokes?”

“You were still a kid, back then,” Mariah said, “not much younger than Cornell. I went to boarding school, but it was already done. My grandmother sent me there to keep me away from him.”

When Shades looked away, Mariah moaned softly, as though she peeled back a wound. 

“That night at the club,” she said, her face contorting with the memory, “Cornell said I ‘wanted it’. He said, ‘I saw how you flirted with Uncle Pete, Mariah. You wanted it.’”

The hairs on the back of Shades’s neck stood on their ends and suddenly, his flesh turned to prickles. At long last, the shouts he’d heard that evening at the club made sense. How Mariah had screamed that she didn’t want it, as she bashed Cornell’s face in with a microphone stand. She did not want it. It was an injustice of the worst degree. For the first time, Shades understood the complexity of Cornell’s murder and why Mariah had gone beserk. He was never particularly fond of the man but Mariah had loved her cousin.

“Cornell loved Uncle Pete more than he loved me,” she said. “Me, who raised him. Fed him. Took care of him. I was his mama, when I had no business being nobody’s mama.” Mariah grasped Shades at the wrist and he was startled to find her hand was cold as hell. “I never had any business being anybody’s mama and I don’t think I want this baby, Hernan. I can’t do this by myself. Not again.”

Shades rose from his place, shushing her gently, and sat on the bed beside her. His hands curled around Mariah’s shoulders and she moved toward him. She was freezing and he had no idea why. He drew her against him, where she cried softly. It didn’t take long, it never did with Mariah, but Shades did not let her go.

“Do you remember what I said, when we found out?” he murmured. “I am ready, and willing, to make this work. You won’t be by yourself.” Shades’s tone was as firm as his hold on her, ever loyal and unyielding. He would be damned if he let this woman raise their child alone. Their eyes met and slowly, he said, “I need you to hear me, Mariah. We’re going to be a family. And when it gets too much, remember, I’m here. I got you.”

Shades knew he’d gotten through to her, even if the issue was far from resolved. It would take a lot more than sincere words of reassurance to fix that, but it was a start. He kissed her forehead and gave her a squeeze, glad to find she was starting to feel less cold. Mariah happily returned his squeeze with a nuzzle, before leaning back on her pillows.

“What about Tilda?” she asked in her usual tone, wiping her eyes.

Shades scoffed, “What about her?”

“Well, we need to deal with her.”

“What is she gonna do, spike your Starbucks?”

Mariah sputtered as if to say ‘duh’, and even Shades knew maybe that particular comment was naive on his part. Still, what the hell could Tilda really do?

“We don’t know what she’s capable of, Hernan,” Mariah said. “Who knows what she got mixed up with in Jamaica. For all I know, she could be Bushmistress or some shit like that.”

Shades chuckled at that little quip but he wasn’t convinced. 

“She can’t do shit,” he said, certain of it. “And even if she got superpowers, it’s only a matter of time before cats like Luke Cage get all up in her business. Besides,” he thumbed Mariah’s chin playfully, “I have a plan.”

Mariah looked intrigued and in her silence, Shades knew she wanted to hear more. 

“I have Diamondback’s old connects,” Shades drawled with a smirk. “The Judas bullet manufacturers. They got some potent shit they plan to distribute.”

“Invent the disease and sell the cure,” Mariah mumbled. “I taught you that.”

“You did.” His hand smoothed over the bump that was their child. “By the time this one comes along, the super freaks will be the least of our concerns.”

“Why is that?”

“Because,” Shades smiled at her, “on the outside, we’ll be legit, baby. First class all the way.”

Mariah cast him a long, excited look. Slowly, she grinned, the act livening her face as they got on the same page. He could already see it. She’d be doing her thing in politics and he’d be running Harlem’s Paradise and their legal arms, maybe open another club downtown. A power couple, rivaled only by Hov and his queen. Considering the weight of what they had previously discussed, Shades was glad to have eased some of Mariah’s worries. He never felt more placated than when his woman had a genuine smile on her face.

“Aight,” she clucked knowingly. Then, after some thought, she added in a different, revived tone, “I want a mansion upstate. Security. Night nanny. A chef.”

Shades burst into a soft laugh as her list of demands went on. She painted a luxurious picture for a home and he expected no less. When she mentioned it would need at least some kind of fitness space, for him to conveniently work out, Shades cast her a soft, candid look. The picture included him. Of course it did, but, hearing it from her made all the difference. Mariah said Harlem would be for business only, or maybe when the kid was a little older. She wasn’t raising nobody in the hood, she said. 

_Not even in a brownstone?_ Shades nearly asked, before remembering she had lost her taste for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what Tilda is capable of, either. But I do want this pair to have it all.


	5. This is Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mariah is discharged from the hospital and Shades picks her up.

In the morning, Mariah awoke to find Shades no longer tucked in bed beside her like she asked. He hadn’t seemed to care that it would probably be uncomfortable for him, wrinkle his fine clothes even — he’d just hopped in. She slept soundly against his warmth, with the occasional odd dream she no longer recalled. The doctor came in to ensure she was all set to check out and briefed her on the paperwork she would need to address at reception before leaving. There were a few things to confirm. Her address had to be updated and, while Mariah made a mental note to do so, she heard the doctor name Alex as her emergency contact and next of kin.

“Did you contact this person?” she asked him.

“Yes,” replied the doctor, “Mr. Wesley was here last night, along with the gentleman in sunglasses.”

Mariah would have to thank Alex for coming. It was likely due to him that Shades had been able to visit this long, though, she was also pleased her man had not made a fuss about Alex facilitating. It was very mature of him not to protest, especially over a title like ‘emergency contact’, although Shades had never really been petty. On occasion, like when Tilda had first returned and was still good, he’d seemed in his feelings about being second best.

Still, Shades was her partner, her ride or die. After everything they had been through, if anyone was to be her emergency contact, it was the father of her unborn child.

The handsome devil returned to the hospital shortly before she was due to be released, and brought with him a change of clothes and her purse left at the club the previous night. Mariah was glad to see his fine ass and happy with his choice of wardrobe for her: an elegant, comfortable black dress and her favorite flats. The thoughtful man even packed her emergency makeup pouch in the tote. It had a travel size toothbrush and paste, among other bits and bobs, so Mariah freshened up before leaving her room.

Shades waited quietly for her, dressed in a different, dark grey suit that looked all kinds of right on his shoulders and booty. Once she emerged, he drew forth to take from her the bag of last night’s stuff. That’s when Mariah noticed that he gave the clean, fresh air of a showered man. She took a moment to look him over, from ray bans down to Berluti soles, and took him by the waist. Mariah raised to the necessary inches on her toes and claimed a minty kiss from him. 

They made quite the pair as they crossed, hand in hand, down the hospital hallways. The swagger of his gait always caught attention, as did his framed face, always a mask of mystery. Mariah even caught some of these male nurses giving him a once over. Once up front, she asked Hernan to hold on.

“What are you doing?” he said aloud.

“Signing these forms.” A clipboard was handed to her and she worked her way through it. “And updating my next of kin.”

She snuck a glance at Hernan’s face and caught the little smile she loved not too far from his mouth. 

“Thank you so much,” she told the nurse once finished.

Outside, Hernan drew her the door to his Mercedes and, once she was settled, he tucked the tote in the back seat and came round to the driver’s side.

“You hungry?” he asked.

She was starving. He took her to a French place close to 127th and they settled comfortably in one of their private seating areas. Mariah requested that they were not disturbed with useless inquiries after their food was served and the waiter happily obliged.

“I like that suit on you,” she told Shades as he pulled off the jacket. His strapping arms flexed with the motion in all the ways she liked. “More heads than usual turn every time you wear it.”

He chuckled and said hers was the only head he was interested in turning. They perused the menu and placed a tasteful order to satisfy them both. An hour later, Mariah sipped on matcha while Hernan checked his phone. It had been buzzing pretty much throughout their meal but he knew she did not like for their time together to be interrupted, if it could be helped. Now she observed him in silence above her mug. 

The lines of his strong face, especially those around his mouth, had gained definition in the past couple of years. Mariah saw how comfortably they settled against his cheek while he concentrated, like they were easing into their prime, just like him. She couldn’t help but remember his words the previous night and how determined he was to be a father. It was heartwarming, if only because this man had been to the mouth of hell and back with her; he’d betrayed her when she deserved it and looked after her when she did not; and still, he wanted her. 

“I never thanked you,” Mariah said without warning. 

“For what?” Hernan clicked his phone to lock and set it down at the sound of her voice. Mariah liked how easily she could get, and keep, his attention.

“It’s not usually my style, but you’ve done what no one else has for me. You stayed.” They leveled each other quietly and Mariah set down her mug, her voice softening. “Everyone I’ve ever loved has betrayed me. But you… You saw every side of me, the darkness that lurks within. And yet you’re still here.”

“Did you expect me to leave?” Hernan said. 

In the morning light, his eyes looked warmer than usual. Mariah could see how he tried to understand why this topic had come up.

“They always do,” she mused. “I just never imagined you would be the one to stay. Look at you, Hernan: young forty, smart, bad ass bitch but still fine as hell. You could have any one of those broads at the club--”

“I don’t like younger women,” Shades cut in.

“But you’re still a man.” Mariah pursed her lips. “And you know your worth. I made sure of that. I’ve seen you, Hernan, how you finesse through situations, including doing time. Remember when we got out?”

“How could I forget?” Hernan murmured.

Shades had been released first, after his bail was posted. The Benefactor had been sure to let some time pass before easing Mariah out of jail and she had nowhere to go, except for a shelter. Shades was living with an aunt in Washington Heights which was far better, but nothing to write home about, when their paths crossed. They were different, both raw and numb at the same time. Incarceration could do that to a person. And yet, in spite of their grisly past, they gravitated back toward making up. 

“Even after you found that room, working all those nights to feed us while my assets were frozen, I wasn’t sure you would stay. Why did you stay with me?” she asked him. “Forget this baby for a moment - why me?”

Hernan released a breath, considering Mariah for a long while. He already had an answer, his silence merely in search of the most efficient way to deliver it. There was something else in the way he looked at her, an old charm and reverence that was never really kicked.

“What can I say?” Shades smiled softly. “You are my future. It doesn’t matter how life comes at us, Mariah. I’ll choose you. Always.”

This man, Mariah realized, knew what he wanted and his feelings were stable. The two of them were far from perfect and God knew they had sinned. But they were stable and this feeling that arose in Mariah at his words was the best damn thing in her world right now. 

Satisfied, she changed the topic. “You nervous about being a daddy?” 

The corners of Hernan’s mouth dipped, and smugly, he said, “Why would I be?”

“Ah!” Mariah started, her eyes bright. She was feeling very cheerful all of the sudden. “Do you have baby mamas out there I need to know about?”

“Just you,” he laughed. “I’m not nervous. I stay ready, baby.”

Mariah smacked him playfully for basically stealing a copyrighted line, and drew on his sweet smile. She could never tire of the endearing way it made his eyes crinkle. He was a sweet thing, often without even trying, and for a long moment Mariah experienced a stroke of gratitude over his presence, the warmth of his words and the consistency of his love. It redeemed her in a way very few things could.

“Are you coming home tonight?” she asked.

“Yes,” Hernan said.

“Good. Bring dinner with you.” 

Mariah wasn’t interested in figuring out what they were going to eat tonight. She considered taking a day off but decided against it. Hers had never been idle hands. While she finished the last of her mug and reflected upon what she’d need for work today, Hernan went back to his phone. This time Mariah frowned, somewhat peeved that their little moment was over, but mostly wondering what the hell he was doing on that thing.

“Okay, explain to me,” she said, “how you can be on your phone right now, but a girl can’t get a text back.”

Hernan’s lip curled into the start of another smile and, while Mariah felt the victory of such a reaction, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even so much as look up.

“Excuse me?” she persisted. “I’m talking to you.”

The man turned the smartphone screen toward her and she narrowed her eyes at what he was looking at. It seemed to be some kind of house.

“This is what I’m doing.” 

Mariah couldn’t really see and asked, “What is it?”

“I’ve been looking at real estate,” he said. “Upstate, just like you wanted.”

Mariah’s brows arched, impressed that he was already on it. She quickly fetched her glasses from her purse and eased them on.

“Look at this one,” Shades said, moving to her side to show her a four bedroom unit. It was sunny and spacious, and had a sizeable front yard with an even bigger backyard. “And this one.” A three bedroom, more or less the same size, with two and a half bathrooms.

Mariah smiled quietly. “Not bad.”

“There’s more.” 

Hernan took the phone from her and expertly returned to a long list of saved items. He pulled one up and the first picture alone had Mariah gasping. 

Hernan lapsed into a sales pitch: “8,000 square feet. Five bedrooms. Four and a half baths. Check out the master.” 

Mariah did, zoomed in, and her jaw dropped. 

“It looks like a presidential suite,” she said to him, their eyes meeting.

“Yo,” Hernan laughed like he’d been thinking the same thing, “it’s some House of Cards shit right there. The room down this hall can be for the nursery.”

“Plenty of room for a crib,” she agreed.

“And then, you can have an office here.”

“That mahogany stand in is gorgeous.”

“And this can be a playroom,” Hernan went on. “Fitness space, here. Four car garage. Security shed. And, check out the gate.”

“It’s majestic.” She turned to Hernan. “And probably hella expensive.”

“We’ll manage,” he said, taking his phone when it was handed back to him. “If you want to go see it I can holla at the realtor.”

“I do,” Mariah replied. “Even if it’s not meant to be, this is the style I want. These schools upstate are always top notch. Anywhere white folks stay, you bet the education is good. We’re really going to give our child the best there is.”

Mariah peeled off her glasses and looked over at Hernan. A manicured finger grazed his chin and she leaned over. He moved in and meeting halfway, they shared a deep kiss. After paying for their meal he drove her to work, where Sugar met them.

“What are you doing here, big man?” she asked, looking from him to Shades.

“I’m here to drive you back when you’re done,” Sugar said.

Mariah silently turned the question to Shades.

“I won’t be late,” he said, apologetic. “I just can’t pick you up.”

“You sure this isn't about Tilda?” she asked him.

“Pft. I ain’t scared of no voodoo,” Shades said. “Come here.”

He drew her into his arms and, when Sugar turned away, they shared a parting kiss.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he murmured.

Mariah smiled when he withdrew. “Don’t forget dinner.”

Shades cast her a parting look behind his frames and headed off. Sugar asked Mariah if he could get her anything and then retreated to the black escalade. Mariah was glad she had made it into the office. She was not only able to be productive professionally, she scheduled an appointment with Doctor Ramani to debrief on what the previous night had brought.

Around lunchtime, Alex came in with a salad for her and apologized for the late start.

“Ah,” Mariah said. “You should have taken the day off. Thank you for coming to the hospital last night. I’m perfectly fine today.” She gave the salad a healthy shake and popped it open, admiring the spinach and mixed protein.

“Of course, Ms Dillard.” Alex paused with a tentative smile. “And might I be the first to offer you my congratulations on your little bundle to come. You and Shades, huh?”

“What can I say?” Mariah beamed. “Boy knows how to hit it.” 

Alex gasp-laughed and said his lips would be sealed on the matter, until she decided to make an official announcement. She wasn’t even a little bothered that Alex knew. They might not have trusted many people but within a month, she would start showing anyway. 

“To who?” she asked. “Those thugs Hernan commands?”

“The press, of course,” he said. “Though it's pre-marital, I think this could do wonders for your popularity. It makes you more relatable and might even earn you a seat back on the city council.”

Mariah wasn’t so sure. “I prefer to keep the child out of the spotlight, as much as possible.”

“But,” Alex said, “once you start showing questions will be raised. Isn’t better to get ahead of them now?”

“I don’t know, Alex. I don’t see who will really care at this point.” She frowned, knowing the deplorable state of her current position. “I’ve been working my ass off organizing community events for Harlem. Most of them go well but, let’s not play ourselves: I’m not getting anywhere fast. It’s going to take a lot longer to establish what you’re talking about.”

Alex sat down and considered her words. They were true enough. Yet he was the sort of person who believed there was always something that could be done.

“How about this,” he said, “the next few events we organize are targeted specifically toward mothers. I can speak to public health professionals and get more than enough statistics to fund campaigns for black mothers in Harlem. Hell, teen mothers in Harlem. Infant mortality rates have always been higher for our people. Think about it, Ms Dillard.” Alex leaned into his seat. “You are expecting. This is the perfect opportunity because you have a reason to organize these kinds of events. You get to announce the pregnancy at one of the events, which puts you in the spotlight as a mother, and you do something good for Harlem.”

“Alex,” Mariah sighed, “do you remember my last initiative for mothers? Three heads on spikes.”

“That was most unfortunate,” Alex said gloomily. “But you had a crazed super villain after you back then. Who’s after you now?”

_Tilda?_ Mariah had to bite her lip at the irony of it.

“Look, it’s not a bad idea. I’m just not sure, with my history, that it will work.” Mariah smiled encouragingly at him. “But I will consider it. And I’d better talk to Hernan about it. It’s his baby as much as mine.”

“Who knows,” Alex said, “Shades might even attend one of the events.”

“Ah-hah!”

They left the conversation at that cackle of hers and the remainder of the day was thankfully uneventful. Sugar drove her home and came up ‘just to make sure she didn’t need anything else’.

“I’m good, big man,” she said. “You can tell Hernan I didn’t forget to set the alarm either. And there’s security downstairs.”

“Alright,” Sugar said. “Have a goodnight, Miss Mariah.”

“Alright, Sugar.”

Once he had gone Mariah kicked off her flats, deposited the tote of clothes and her work things in the first chair she saw, and made her way to the bedroom to run a hot shower. While it warmed up, she peeled off her wig and cap, running deft fingers through four twists to shake them loose. Her shower wound up being a little longer than usual as she gave her locks a thorough wash. By the time she was in her silk pajamas and satin bonnet, her stomach was growling.

“Where the hell is this man…” she muttered to herself, going to fetch her phone in the tote.

None of the missed calls or messages were from Hernan, which was not surprising. But Mariah decided to put away her things first before trying to call him. Shades was at the door by the time she emerged from the bedroom.

“Hernan. Finally,” Mariah said. “Where you been?”

“I stopped by Red Rooster.” Hernan made his way deeper into the apartment and deposited the thick bag of food on the table. A pleasant smell wafted off of it. Mariah eyed it eagerly and made to reach for it as Hernan peeled off his shades. 

“Hey,” he stopped her mission to catch her by the waist, wanting his ‘welcome back’ kiss. Mariah gave it willingly. “You smell nice. Deep condition?”

“Yes.” Mariah cast him a surprised look, remembering he’d said once he liked the smell of her hair products. “I figured I had time while waiting for you to get here. But I’m starving.”

“You get started then,” he said, jutting his chin toward the food. “I’m gonna clean up.”

“No, you go on,” Mariah said. She went to the cabinets and pried what they would need. “I’ll fix you a plate. I waited this long... just don’t be forever in there.”

It never took him too long. He was back within 15 minutes, showered and changed more casually. His short hair fell boyishly on his brow when it was damp. He made his way to the couch where their stacked plates and drinks awaited, eagerly rubbing his hands together before settling beside her.

“You didn’t have to wait,” he remarked, and she told him she wanted to. They talked about their day and night, and about Alex’s ideas to announce the pregnancy. 

Shades said, “I’m surprised he hasn’t said anything yet.”

“I trust Alex,” Mariah said.

“You put a hit out on him, when you got arrested.”

“I also got back together with your broke ass after we go out,” Mariah retorted.

Shades frowned, then smiled, his mouth really full, and nodded as if to say ‘fair enough’.

“Anyway, I think he might be onto something. This pregnancy is going to come out sometime,” Mariah said. “I may as well control the narrative in my favor.”

“Do your thing, mama,” Shades replied. “But don’t involve too much press.”

“Learn from my mistake,” she hummed. “Do the opposite of last time.”

“Exactly.” For a man of few words, Hernan sure knew how to get his point across. “Damn, this chicken is good.”

Mariah burst out laughing unexpectedly, watching Hernan shovel great heaps of food in his mouth. His plate was already almost empty and she could tell he was going to want seconds. She took hold of the remote and switched the channel once the game came to an end. After flipping through the listing, she stopped on NBC.

“_This Is Us_ about to come on,” she told Hernan, eyeing his plate. “You better get your seconds quick.”

“Shit, you’re right.”

The episode allowed them to unwind and they chattered quietly to themselves in commentary. When it was done, Mariah yawned and Shades took their soiled plates to the dishwasher. Mariah trusted he’d pack the leftovers and declared she was making her way to bed. He was there within a few minutes to brush his teeth. Mariah observed him as she laid on her hand cream.

“Has anyone ever told you,” she said, “that you look like a shark?”

Hernan shot her a startled look and spat a mouthful of toothpaste. “I thought you liked my teeth.”

“I like your smile, baby,” she said. “I hope the kid has it.”

He scrubbed his tongue, rinsed with mouth wash, and then said, “Do you want to find out the sex? Next time we see Ramani?”

Mariah considered and then admitted she wasn’t sure. Knowing would be wonderful, but a surprise?

“I think we should wait to find out.” Hernan took to flossing and Mariah marveled at his precision. Prior to getting with him, if anyone had ever told her how seriously this gangster took his dental health, she would have laughed in their face. “And I think whatever house we end up getting, the nursery should be gender neutral in decor and color. I don’t like pink or blue.”

“What about the crib?” he asked, running a hand over his lip and turning to her.

“White.” Mariah frowned. “Why are you smiling?”

“Smiling?” he beamed. “Me?”

“Oh, tsk.” Mariah shook her head and took hold of his sides, easing into a hug. “You are way too excited for this baby, Hernan.” 

These were the moments she had learned to cherish, the time between brushing their teeth and going to bed, or cuddling on the couch watching TV after dinner. These were the things she hadn’t known she wanted until they were hers, with Hernan.

“Let’s do it right this time, man,” she murmured to his chest. “No mistakes. No bad karma.”

“We will,” he said. “I promise you that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly domestic fluff for this one, something I've wanted to indulge in with these two. Also re-imagined the end of season 2 to: Mariah and Shades serving time and being bailed out by 'the Benefactor'. Not sure who this is yet. I was charmed by the idea of the two of them starting over after doing time and getting to this point.


	6. Thriller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a new drug hitting Harlem. It is concocted by Tilda, to tarnish Mariah’s name, but once again, the NYPD go to Harlem’s Paradise for answers.

Trouble smelled a certain way in Harlem. Anyone who knew this place was aware there was always something. A new artist, a new club; a new superhero and a slew of supervillains. This time, it was a new drug. 

It snuck its way into parties from the depths of unknown labs and found its way in with the kids. There were those who said the symptoms of this particular strain were very similar to their last plague, BUSHMASTER, making people go feral out of the blue. Back then, it took Luke and Bushmaster joining forces to stop those joints from cropping up. One thing that was clear to both of them: the name on the label was always propaganda, a tool of defamation.

But just because Luke had caught on after the LUKE CAGE outbreak and John after BUSHMASTER, did not mean others had. This new drug was a menace, a force to be reckoned with that transformed any who came in contact with the drug. But that was not all there was to the epidemic.

Reports in Harlem of folks howling at the moon and streetlights, attacking innocent bystanders like dogs, and infecting them with a bite, became very common. Nothing quite like it had ever roamed the streets of Harlem and possessed its people with such toxicity. It was a plague and so, perhaps that is why it was so aptly named BLACK MARIAH.

After weeks of Harlem citizens quite literally wolfing out, the police finally decided to pay a visit to Harlem’s Paradise. As usual, they didn’t have shit, save theories and gut feelings. Shades had expected the folks in blue to come, even though a part of him hoped that maybe, for once, they would leave him and Mariah alone and actually go after the real perps. He’d been thoroughly drowned in business and personal matters these last few weeks, well on his way to making his first entirely legal gun sale. An expunged record made things a whole lot easier for a guy like him, and he had the Benefactor to thank for that.

It was mid morning and he was at the club, post his 5 am workout at the gym, doing actual work and lining up his contacts and some prospects. With the first gun sale, he would be nicely slated to broker up to five more deals if all went to plan and all the players were in their place. The club was doing pretty good too. Upon on large, sleek monitor, Shades had the books pulled up, though he was taking a break from doing numbers since walking in earlier. On the same screen was a tab of artists slated to perform, minimized, and from the looks of it earlier, Harlem’s Paradise would be packed solid for the next few months.

Shades heard voices downstairs and cast his eyes toward the window. With a frown, he pulled up his schedule on his primary screen. There were no meetings on the books until later in the afternoon, with some entertaining in the evening. He was supposed to have the morning to get shit done, and then, Mariah had an ultrasound with Dr. Ramani right around lunch time. So, who the hell was that? 

Closing up his schedule, Shades went back to work, leaving the thugs downstairs to deal with the problem. Whoever it was must have been business well above their pay grade, because a knock very quickly found its way to the office door.

“Boy, please,” said a woman. “I don’t need to announce myself.”

He recognized that voice. It sent a curl of distaste through him and caused his fingers to move from the apple keyboard in order to massage his wrists, which prickled suddenly with old memories. Shades’ musings on his gun buyers dimmed slowly from his gaze as two officers made their way inside.

“Hernan Alvarez.” Misty had always liked saying his name aloud, especially when she was reading him his rights. “Wow. You almost look like you do real work around here,” she said, casually strolling around. Her brown eyes settled on the back of the iMac. “Where’d you learn how to use a computer?”

Shades chuckled because, for all her brains, Misty had jokes. She was here with some white, derpy looking detective. Bailey, if Shades remembered correctly. Two sorry ass detectives, whose former partners were both dirty. They deserved each other as much as Mariah and Shades did.

“What are you doing here?” he asked them calmly.

“So, the rumors are true. Sugar Momma gave you her club,” Misty said. “Does that mean you guys are exclusive now?”

More laughter from Shades, soft and measured. He cast his gaze aside and entertained when he should just tell them they were wasting their time. Everyone knew about the drug out there and its effects. And everyone working for Shades knew they did not deal drugs. They hadn’t done that since Mariah lay in bed with the Chinese, and what a disaster that had been.

“You and your partner are cute,” he smirked. “All you have to do now is betray each other, like the other guys did you. Maybe then, we can all go to couple’s therapy together.”

It was Misty’s turn to smile, even if it slowly turned into a grimace as she approached his desk.

“BLACK MARIAH,” she said boldly. “We suspect one of you is behind it and given your record, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

“I don’t speak Chinese,” Shades scoffed and returned his gaze to his monitor. This was a waste of his damn time. He hit save on one of the documents with his prospects and encrypted the file. Maybe he could take another look at those books.

“People are changing out there,” Misty continued. “They’re turning into… beasts, of no alliance or empathy. This is spreading, you know. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“You’re wasting your time talking to me.” Shades cast his eyes on Bailey, who was snooping around. He wouldn’t find anything, no matter how hard he sniffed.

“I actually thought you were smart, Misty,” Shades said, meeting her eyes. His voice went soft when he spoke. “Remember ‘Che? When you brought me in and played the scene out, like you thought it happened, like it _did_… It was like you were there. Man, you earned my respect that night. You used to be able to see things.” Shades scowled. “But you can’t see shit anymore, can you?”

“Oh, you better watch your gotdamn--”

“Misty,” Bailey intervened.

Misty’s jaw clenched and shifted, as she came down from her brief flare and calmed. Shades smirked because he knew she was still salty as all hell that he and Mariah had gotten out. Even though the two of them had been thrown to the streets, — literally to a women’s shelter for Mariah,— it must have stung to see that they had dusted themselves off and built a new life. Shades was smug about it and very proud of himself.

“Who’s behind the drug?” Misty asked him.

“Not us,” Shades said, making sure to enunciate, so Misty didn’t miss it. “I promise you that. I’ve been working, right here,” he gestured around the office. “And Mariah has been running the community center. We’re not involved.”

“Then why is the drug called BLACK MARIAH?”

Shades sighed and shook his head. So he had to do police work now, huh? In truth, cops were always at a disadvantage, not being properly inside. The dirty cops were always the better players, because they could cut corners and see things ‘good cops’ wouldn’t immediately get to.

“Was Carl behind that LUKE CAGE joint when it dropped?” he asked them. “Was John McIver behind BUSHMASTER? Both named after them. Both shut down by them. It’s defamation and you know it. You’re just here because, like usual, you don’t have shit.”

“Then, help me help you, Hernan,” Misty said, rolling the ‘r’ in his name. Yeah, she definitely loved to say it. Shades wanted to laugh. As much disdain as he held for her, it was kind of sexy to hear the way she said his name. His wrists tingled and he rubbed on one, his upper lip curling up.

Unexpectedly, his phone started to buzz. Mariah was calling him.

“Sorry,” Shades said, not meaning it, “I’m going to take this.”

And so Misty and Bailey stood around waiting and listening to his half of a personal conversation with his woman.

“Hernan, baby, you busy?” Mariah asked on the other end.

“Yes. What’s going on?”

“I just got a call from the doctor’s office. They’re wondering if we can come in a little early for the ultrasound,” Mariah explained. “Ramani has a sudden conflict around lunch time. Something personal, but she’s in the office all morning.”

Shades checked his gold watch with a soft, nearly inaudible sigh. “What time?”

“11:30.”

That was not too long from now but it was doable. Mariah said maybe they could grab lunch afterwards.

“OK,” he said. 

“Alright my bae,” she cooed, “see you soon.”

“Bye.”

Shades set his phone in his pocket and rose. Misty and Bailey were still there, the former looking pretty annoyed.

“You done?” she said, a brow raised.

“Like I said,” Shades murmured, “you’re wasting your time with me and Mariah.” He closed the important stuff on the computer, locked the machine, and rose. “But I’ll tell you who’s back in Harlem from Jamaica.” Shades went to the couch, where his suit jacket was draped, and pulled it over his broad shoulders. When all was smoothed and neatly tucked, he fetched the Ray Bans from the pocket. “Tilda.”

“Mariah’s estranged daughter, who tried to kill her?” Misty didn’t know this. “What the hell is she doing back in Harlem?”

Shades turned his head this way and that, like he was entertaining the question. “Look around, Misty. A Stokes heirloom is now, legally, in the hands of some Puerto Rican player.” He approached the detective and got real close, enough to smell her light perfume, for their breaths to ghost upon each other’s faces. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?” With a smirk, Shades cast Misty a wink, and he was rewarded with a look of revulsion.

Nonetheless, she said, “Thanks. Come on, Bailey.” 

Misty made her way around Shades, who donned his sunglasses. When the detectives could be seen downstairs making their way out, he shot the office one final look and then turned to lock up. 

Shades made his way to his vehicle and circled around the block a couple of times, to make sure he didn’t have a tail, before driving up to Mariah’s office. Sugar was outside the community center next to the escalade he drove. Shades locked his car and went to fleetingly greet the big man before entering his woman’s office. Alex was mid sentence when he walked in.

“Hey,” Mariah said, looking ready to go. 

She grabbed her purse, told Alex they’d continue this when she got back, and pulled on her fall jacket. Hernan noticed that it did a marvelous job covering up her bump. His palm opened to take her hand and they shared a kiss before making their way outside. He asked her whether she was good, and if she craved anything specific for lunch later. Mariah left it up to him, so Shades pulled open her door and joined her once she was all settled in the vehicle.

“I had visitors at the club earlier,” he told Mariah while he drove. Unbeknownst to him, they had a well concealed tail. “Misty, and that golden retriever she calls her partner.”

“What did they want?” Mariah asked.

“Needed help with their homework.” Shades made a smooth turn and followed the signs to get on the highway for the Bronx. “The drug.” He was careful not to use the actual name, knowing it set his woman’s teeth on edge.

“Did you tell them it’s Tilda that’s behind it?” Mariah said. “She has some witch’s brew that’s making everybody run around like it’s Thriller.”

“I told them she’s back in Harlem.” He cast his mirrors a glance and drove on. “They should be smart enough to know she has enough motive to start something.”

“Well, we didn’t see something like this coming,” Mariah said. She removed her jacket and Shades turned up the AC for her. “I told you we don’t know what she’s capable of. I don’t need any of these crazies ruining one of my community initiatives. She’s trying to tarnish my name using that filthy nickname.”

Shades placed his hand on hers and interlocked their fingers. That worked 100% better than telling his woman to ‘calm down’ when she started getting agitated. It worked with most women, actually.

“Don’t worry about her,” he said firmly. “I’m going to keep you and the baby safe. Once Misty gets her shit together, the cops and Carl will be on Tilda.” They really just needed to stay out of the way and let this play out. And for once, Shades was more than happy to do just that.

“It’s terrible, what she’s doing to Harlem,” Mariah said softly. Her eyes were on the signs indicating they were drawing closer to the Bronx. It was only about 11:15 so they were pretty good on time. “Turning brothers and sisters into freaks. But if that’s how she wants to play, she’ll get what’s coming for her. I want no part of it. How’s our money?”

“Growing,” Shades said confidently. “My first legitimate brokering is about to come through. The club is generating but, I’ll have to double down on security. I can’t have Tilda’s mess up in there.”

“Good. You do that, and soon.”

“I’ll get on it after lunch,” Shades assured her. 

He shot her a look and they shared a smile, a symbol of their harmony. Something had been on his mind over the past few days so he chose to voice it now. 

“I’ve been thinking that we should take some time off,” Shades brought up. Though his eyes were back on the road, he could see in his periphery how Mariah turned to him. “We can go somewhere for a bit, just you and me.”

“I have to work,” she told him, “as do you.”

“Take a break,” he answered.

“I will, just as soon as you tie up any loose ends at the club and triple security.”

Shades scoffed and said he was serious. “Let’s get out of Harlem for a little bit.” He ushered the Mercedes to the Bronx-Lebanon hospital parking and fetched a ticket. The gate lifted to let them through.

“Where are you thinking, then?” Mariah entertained Shades, once the car was parked. “And when?”

“I want to take you to Paris for Christmas.”

As soon as Mariah registered what he said, she started to smile a little and sort of tried to hide it as well, collecting her purse and draping her jacket over her forearm. She asked him if he’d ever even been to Paris. Shades had not, but he took the question as a yes from her. So he leaned over and pecked her lips.

“Sit tight,” he murmured, so he could get the door for her.

\----

From a distance, Misty and Bailey, who had done a fantastic job tailing Shades, gaped as the two Harlem players made their way hand in hand to the hospital. Shades had helped Mariah back into her coat, but not before the shape of protruding belly was in full view through her elegant dress.

“You did say he was hiding something,” Bailey remarked.

“Yeah,” Misty scoffed. “But I didn’t think it was a damn baby.” She turned to her partner. “Maybe he was right and they really have nothing to do with this shit. I mean, look at them: they’re too busy playing house to be behind this.”

“If that’s the case, we’re tailing the wrong people,” Bailey replied.

\----

“Are you sure you don’t want to find out the sex?” Dr. Ramani asked.

Mariah was beaming and nodding her head, saying they didn’t always like surprises, but this was one she wanted to keep. Shades just marveled at the ultrasound. He couldn’t quite believe this was actually happening. It was one thing to know your woman was definitely pregnant and another to see the child in there. He felt deeply moved by the sight of that little figure, kicking and swimming around. 

An urge to hold his child came over him, and it was all he could do not to make it known. The entire appointment he barely said a word, honestly not trusting himself in his reaction. They printed copies of the ultrasound for them and Shades tucked the precious image in his wallet. Maybe they could put Mariah’s copy on the fridge.

Dr. Ramani and Mariah were talking their heads off so, Hernan had just tuned them out as he gazed at the ultrasound monitor.

“Hernan.” It was Mariah, sounding like she’d called his name more than once. He snapped out of his haze and looked at her.

“What?” 

Mariah shared a smile with the doctor. “What did I tell you? He’s already in love and we still have four months to go.” Dr. Ramani said something about first time fathers and Mariah caressed Hernan’s cheek with the back of her soft hand.

“What is it?” he asked, taking the fingers to press her knuckles to his lips.

“She wanted to know if you have any questions or concerns.”

Shades turned to Dr. Ramani and gestured. “Baby’s healthy right?”

“Yes, Mr. Alvarez.”

“And moms, how’s her blood sugar looking?”

“More stable than last time,” Dr. Ramani answered. “The medication helped some and you reported the hot flashes have decreased, right Ms. Dillard?”

“Yes, they have,” Mariah said.

That’s all he wanted to know. They completed some paperwork and were given some light reading material before heading out. They stuck to the Bronx for lunch, opting for Carribean food. Mariah stayed away from anything raw but she seemed happy with her choice. 

Shades drove her back to work and informed her wouldn’t be home until much later that night, so she wouldn’t wait up. As he was thinking about what he needed to get done, prior to his meetings later that afternoon, Mariah kissed him goodbye and then said, as she patted his abdomen, in her coquettish tone, “Paris for Christmas sounds wonderful to me.”

Hernan peeled off his shades and grinned. She looked so pretty to him in that moment, he thought she might have been glowing. There was a reason he kissed her so often, especially at work, in the office, outside her office, wherever. Mariah didn’t see that it was coming full circle for him. He remembered that time with Cornell, when they came to drop a bag of money at Crispus Attucks, and how nervous he was (in spite of playing it off) just getting inside the building, anticipating to see Mariah for the first time since getting out of Seagate. 

She had looked pretty as hell then too, sexy, as she told Cornell to get her money, and then asked whether his ‘watchdog’ needed a drink of water. Thank Goodness for the sunglasses back then. Her eyes on him had electrified Shades. Now that he had nothing to hide from her, he realized that something rare was back. It was that glow, the one his mind’s eye cast upon her, whenever he saw her back then.

Everything about Mariah in that moment felt right and clear, just like their future, with its endless possibilities. With extreme fondness, Hernan gazed at the mother of his unborn child, before finally answering.

“I’ll make the arrangements.”

“C’est bon,” Mariah answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by Shades saying, “All that shit is cute. But when you have to kill to get it, you’re gonna get killed to keep it.” I wanted to emphasize how serious both are about ‘doing things right this time’ and what ‘having it all’ could look like if they just try to mind their business.
> 
> I also read that the comic book version of Tilda is able to harness werewolves, so I wanted to explore that idea here a bit.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to Gangstertogangster and our Paris chat :)


	7. Becky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mariah announces her pregnancy and realizes the extent of her love for Shades.

Mariah’s feet were aching in her flats. Although she had not been standing for very long, the minor pains were becoming more frequent. Her back hurt, her legs hurt, and sometimes even her knees gave her a bit of trouble. Ever since she passed month 5 of the pregnancy, most days, the only thing she looked forward to was going home to stay off her feet for eight plus hours. When Hernan was home, she complained petulantly until he quietly took his place beside her and gave her a massage.

Considering she was just gearing up for an event, there would be no massage to soothe her aches for the next several hours. This would be the event where she announced her pregnancy. Ironic, considering she wasn’t particularly thrilled about being in pain today. But Mariah decided to grin and bear it. 

Alex coordinated the appearance of two public health professionals at this afternoon’s event, Dr. Sanders and Dr. Conte. The event was advertised in women’s clinics and community centers, indicating a workshop would be held for expecting mothers. Mariah specifically asked Alex to go easy on the press and only invite one, if not two papers.

“We don’t need any brouhaha,” she told him sternly.

The event kicked off on schedule, which was something of a miracle in itself. Mariah gave the introductory remarks and thanked her guests for their participation. As for the crowd, it wasn’t a massive turn out but, considering her terrible reputation and last events, it was good enough. The highly accomplished and respected public health professionals, both of whom were the epitome of black excellence, primarily discussed premature births among African Americans, and outlined statistics that showed how common they were in minority communities compared to others.

While Mariah mediated the panel, she reflected quietly on her own past experience. Tilda had been born at full term but to a younger, healthier Mariah. Surely her current state could not compare. She gnawed at the inside of her lip thoughtfully as the speakers gave the results of some of their published research.

“Could women of a certain age in our community be more at risk?” Mariah found herself asking aloud, moreso for herself than the attendees.

“There are statistics,” Dr. Conte said, “which show that yes, a mother’s age can impact an early delivery, particularly if the mother is above 40. Premature births are obviously not preferred, in spite of the advanced state of most hospitals NICUs. There are learning developments and behavioral changes linked to being born a premie and thus, education is the most powerful tool of prevention for mothers who are considered ‘at risk’. Of course, there have been many in Caucasian communities who deliver healthy babies at term, regardless of the mother’s age.”

“Why is our community so at risk?” Mariah asked.

Dr. Sanders was the one to field this one, saying in her measured voice, “There are many factors. Some of the most relevant ones include not taking the right precautions during pregnancy. For instance, not adhering to a healthy diet for the mother and child, or taking part in certain vices; sometimes it’s due to exceptionally high stress levels among people of color, African American women in particular.”

As Dr. Sanders went in more detail, Mariah momentarily tuned her out and placed a hand on her bump. If this pregnancy had fallen around the time she was caught up with Bushmaster, it was doubtful the baby would even make it. Talk about insanely high levels of stress… She supposed there was no better time than now but, then again, with Tilda running around destroying Harlem, one could argue otherwise. Thank goodness for Hernan, she thought, and how calm he was about the entire situation. If it weren’t for him to temper her, Mariah was not sure how she’d manage.

Toward the end of the panel, prior to the workshops, Mariah finally made her announcement by removing the large but thin blazer she wore. There on the low podium, her baby bump was outlined through her dress.

“I would like to thank our professionals, and all the mothers joining us tonight,” she said with a smile, in her best white person voice. “It is my pleasure to announce that this event means so much to me and the community because my partner and I are expecting our first child together.”

The audience clapped, Mariah posed for pictures, with her bump in full view, and then she was out of the spotlight. While the workshops went on, Mariah went to take a break to relieve herself. It seemed like the baby was constantly sitting on her bladder. She emerged later to oversee the interactive portion of the event and greeted as many people as she could. There were those who congratulated her very warmly, to her surprise. The couple of journalists who had been invited to cover the event came up to Mariah and asked her for a few comments on not only the fact that she was expecting, but this ‘partner’ she mentioned.

“What’s his name?” they wanted to know.

“Hernan Alvarez,” she told them smoothly, repeating that they were thrilled. 

She expertly avoided the uncomfortable questions — easily done since it was a small number of reporters — and strolled through the event until the last attendees had gone.

“I need to leave,” she told Alex wearily. “I’m exhausted. Can you handle cleaning up?”

“Of course, Mariah. Go home,” he said, “I got this covered.”

Mariah patted his arm and quickly made her way to the Escalade. The moment she was in the back seat, she kicked off her flats and reclined in the large seat.

“You wanna head home, Miss Mariah?” Sugar asked, “or do you have business elsewhere?”

“Take me home, big man.” She closed her eyes and dozed for a moment, her mind wandering. Home would be nice, though it had been quiet again of late, an empty nest. Mariah felt a sudden urge to see Shades and feel his arms around her. Her eyes flew open and she told Sugar, “Actually no. Stop by the club first.”

Hernan hadn’t been coming home very often for the past couple of weeks. When she did see him, he looked withdrawn, as a tired man does, doing her bidding without the slightest complaint. They’d gone to see a few houses before his string of absences but still had not settled on one they both favored. It was the only time they’d really had together and frankly, house hunting was starting to feel like a chore.

Mariah reflected that his idea to get away for a bit was sound. Romantic as it was, an unlikely quality for him, she felt it would be necessary because he seemed to be working himself to death. Most nights Mariah did not mind not seeing him. But it was uncomfortable (and lonely) not knowing exactly what he was up to; paired with the constant worry that Tilda was just around the corner waiting to take them both out and it was all Mariah could do not to bug out. They really just needed to get the hell out of Harlem for a few days. 

As Sugar pulled up to Harlem’s Paradise, Mariah reminded herself to ask Shades how the trip planning was going. Maybe she could help, though she didn’t want to get Alex on it. Something like this had to remain private.

“Do you know if he’s here?” she asked Sugar.

“No, ma’am.” Sugar said he hadn’t heard from Shades.

To her surprise, they went through quite a number of hoops just to enter the club, even though it was a late Wednesday afternoon. Not only was there new security, there was also a metal detector and some other formalities.

“Do these guys know who I am?” she asked Sugar with a scoff.

“It’s the new protocol,” he answered, seeming like he didn’t exactly enjoy it either. “It ain't gonna work if we make exceptions for some people.”

“Does Hernan have to take his damn shoes off entering his own club?” she said aloud.

Sugar chuckled and said the process was a lot more fluid for the nights they held events. Still, it verged on extreme and, while Mariah wondered just what kind of message that sent, she also could not find it in herself to fault Shades on his diligence. She had asked it of him and, as usual, he delivered.

The club always looked different in broad daylight. As Mariah waddled her expecting behind across, she was suddenly possessed by the thought of just letting the club go. If Tilda wanted it so damn badly, why shouldn’t she just have it? Of course it wouldn’t be that simple. But if it were, maybe then Mariah and Shades would be left in peace to do their own thing. She could continue trying to rebuild her image and he could focus on dealing arms. If he wanted more real estate, maybe he could buy another club.

Mariah looked up from the dancefloor at the office window to try and see if the man was in. Long shadows being cast on the wall told her there were definitely people inside the office. Once, she would have just barged in and poured herself a drink up there, but now, she opted to respect Hernan’s professionalism and integrity. If he was busy, she wouldn’t mind waiting.

“Can you check to see if anybody’s working?” she asked Sugar. “I want something virgin to drink and maybe some fruit.”

Sugar quickly proceeded to do as bid, leaving Mariah to set her purse down on the bar and settle in one of the stools. She was tempted to kick off her flats. On second thought, she considered going to one of the more comfortable sofas, but the distance was disheartening at best. The couch in the office was the most comfortable, though it came with its own host of memories. She wished Hernan would get rid of the damn thing already.

They brought her a lemonade and cantaloupe slices. Mariah tried to be dainty while she ate but she realized she was getting hungry, and scarfed the fruit down rather quickly. She cast her eyes to the window, wondering how much longer Shades would be up there. That’s when she saw a long haired, slender woman through the glass, her head thrown back in throaty laughter. Mariah frowned, wondering since when Hernan had jokes. She asked herself whether this was a meeting for the club or the gun business.

“Or both,” she murmured, looking away.

In truth, she was a bit peeved by the pang of jealousy that snaked its way through her. She considered such emotions beneath her. Most of the time one wouldn’t even catch her crying for more than ten seconds. And yet there she sat, drinking juice and devouring fruit like a large toddler, as she considered the no doubt countless beauties that made their way through this club, or those office doors. What was Hernan doing most nights, anyway? He’d been looking more and more sleepless these last few days and, while Mariah had attributed it to him over exerting himself with work, now she had her doubts.

She knew she could trust him, of course she did, but there was no easy way to stop the direction of her thoughts. With a deep sigh, she rose. This was a waste of time. If Shades wanted to see her, he could get his ass home when he was done. She was tired anyway.

“I changed my mind,” she told Sugar, grabbing her purse.

The thug cast her a thoroughly confused look and then turned his chin toward the balcony, where the office door opened to the sound of several voices being shown out. Mariah looked in the same direction and saw there was no avoiding them as they all walked out. Besides, given the minute frown that seized Shades’ brow upon seeing her, Mariah was as good as exposed and she was certainly unexpected. While the conveners made their way down, she scooted closer to Sugar and asked him softly whether he had seen that man and woman here before.

“A couple of times in VIP,” he answered discreetly. “Boss seems on good terms with them.”

“Who the hell is the beanpole?” Mariah asked.

“The daughter, I think.”

Shades led his guests over to Mariah and smoothed a hand over his suit. She eyed him loftily but said nothing, getting a healthy whiff of his aftershave when he swept over to press his mouth to her cheek. His eyes said, ‘what are you doing here?’ but, his mouth said, “Someone I’d like you to meet.”

Once she focused her gaze on the man and the woman at his side, Mariah understood what Sugar meant. She’d seen that pasty ass covered up with a fake tan and offensively bright teeth before.

“You must be Justin,” Mariah said and smiled, extending her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“And you, Ms Dillard,” Justin Hammer replied. 

“Oh, please,” she clucked. “You can call me Mariah.”

“Mariah, this is my niece, Evelyna,” Justin said, extending a palm toward the gorgeous giraffe at his side. 

Her tan looked a bit more real, certainly very close to Hernan’s Puerto Rican blessing, and she had the sort of beautiful face that was extremely difficult to look away from.

“Nice to meet you, Evelyna,” she said, with a fake smile.

“And you, Ms Dillard, how do you do?” Evelyna spoke with an accent.

_Great, she is stunning and British_, Mariah thought deplorably, saying that she was doing just fine, all things considered.

“Congratulations, by the way,” Justin said, “you must be very happy.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll be happier in doing business with you,” Mariah said in response, looking neither at Shades nor at Evelyna. “Well, I’m sure you’d like to be on your way now.”

“Yes.” The men shook hands, saying their people would respectively be in touch about business. Mariah stood to one side and watched as Hammer’s niece had the audacity to embrace Shades, delivering a kiss to both his cheeks, her long hair sweeping this way and that, as she told him, “See you again very soon, Mr. Alvarez.”

Mercifully, they were gone after that. Shades peeled off his jacket and went to drape it on a nearby chair, but Mariah was over it and ready to go.

“Bring the car around, Sugar,” she told him. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Woah,” Shades said. He approached Mariah slowly and did that thing where he placed his hands on her shoulders to try and get her attention. “Where you going so fast?”

“Home,” she said with a bit more edge than she meant to. “I actually had a really long day so…”

Hernan was observant. She saw how he blinked and frowned, moving his head to try and catch her reluctant eye. 

“Did you need something?” he asked, probably trying to figure out what she was doing here.

“No, honestly, I didn’t.” Mariah squirmed out of his grasp and started to walk away, but she made the mistake of looking him in the eye. 

He immediately saw that something was bothering her. Hernan blocked her path with a soft ‘hold up’ and searched her face. Mariah eyed him with a degree of defiance but, to be quite honest, she was a bit embarrassed by the slippery grasp she had on her emotions. It was definitely the hormones.

“What’s the problem?” Shades asked clearly, calmly.

Mariah leveled him flatly and said, “Right now the fact that you’re standing in my way when I’m trying to leave.” He laughed but did not budge, so Mariah asked him, “How was your meeting?”

“Productive,” he said. “Direct access to Justin Hammer is a goldmine. He’s got something to neutralize those Tilda’s got wilding out, perfectly legal, sold only to law enforcement. It’s better than Christmas in July.”

“Look at you,” Mariah scoffed at his grin, “kicking off your training wheels. Is that what you and Becky with the good hair were laughing about?”

Shades cast her a blank look. He seemed so puzzled, she momentarily felt sorry for him. When his eyes cleared back up he shook his head. 

“Hammer made the joke,” he said. “I honestly can’t even remember it.”

“Well, she seems to be looking forward to getting all up in this club again,” Mariah said. “You been showing her around?”

Shades looked like he didn’t know what the hell that had to do with anything. He was quick, however, soon understanding exactly what was going on. Mariah fleetingly resented how sharp he could be, especially when it came to her.

“That’s what this is about.” He shook his head with a smile. “Don't worry about her. Anyway, she’s gotta be like 26.”

“Hos can be any age, my bae.”

“Come on,” Shades sighed. “You know better than to let stuff like that bother you.”

She did, but Mariah did not appreciate his tone, how patronizing it sounded. Somehow, instead of feeling defiant, something heavy welled up in her throat and her fight or flight instincts kicked in. She wanted nothing more than to remove herself from this situation and so, she tried to steer around Shades as quickly as possible. 

She was going home. She was done. She should have just gone home in the first place instead of coming here to see what he was up to. But how was she to know what she would find here? Mariah had been missing Shades. The only thing on her mind half an hour ago was to be near him and feel the encompassing warmth of his arms around her. She had even considered lecturing him gently again about coming home more often.

Now all she could think was how this was a mistake, how large and pregnant she was, and how that was certainly far less appealing to see every night than Justin Hammer’s goddamn leggy niece.

“Hey,” Shades said, taking hold of her.

She cursed his strong grip and reluctantly turned to him, her eyes wide and bright. His face changed very quickly and he leaned in, her protruding belly the only thing to cause a gap between them.

“Hammer and his niece are just business. And even if they weren’t,” he said with a cheeky smirk, “I don’t give a shit about ‘good hair’. You are my queen.”

“Don’t speak to me as if I am a child, Hernan,” Mariah snapped.

“I’m not,” he said firmly. Then, seemingly deciding to drop the subject, he said, “You still haven’t told me why you came.”

Calming herself a bit, Mariah pouted and smoothed down his tie and vest, feeling his strong chest beneath her fingers. He may not have given the bimbo a second thought but that woman definitely had a thing for her man. Mariah would have told Shades she’d come because she missed him, but her pride reared up its head and kept the words locked away.

“OK. How was the event?” he asked instead, hands running along her arms.

“It went,” she told him. “Damn public health professionals never have any good news for black folks.”

Hernan watched her affectionately as she rattled off about some of the statistics she could remember and the risks she learned about. She considered herself fortunate to have the awareness and access to health care that she did. Not everyone was so lucky and that certainly played a part in some of the issues discussed that afternoon.

“Anyway, then I just told Sugar to stop by here so I could have a look at security.”

“So you could have a look at security,” Shades repeated like he didn’t believe a word of that.

“Yes.” Mariah looked up defensively at him and, a bit more loudly, she said, “Is this LaGuardia? You have some TSA shit going on in here, man. When I said increase security, I didn’t mean treat the club like a post 9/11 Bush Administration.”

“It gets the job done,” Shades said. “That’s all that matters. Besides, I still think your motives for coming by the Paradise were a little more selfish.”

“How do you know, then, since you’re so damn smart?”

“Easy.” Hernan smirked and Mariah’s eyes followed the sharpness of his mouth. “When you’re hiding something, you tease me, and your voice changes.” 

Mariah looked away and Shades must have known he’d gotten her. In consolation, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, asking her to ‘spit it out already.’ She would be lying to say the hug wasn’t exactly what she wanted. Mariah came very close to just about melting into him. God, he was warm as a furnace, one of her favorite things, and all she wanted to do was to fall asleep against him.

“I came because my feet hurt,” she said into his fine clothes. “And to ask how the trip planning is going.”

“You could have asked that at home,” he hummed.

“But you’re not coming home again.” Hernan pulled away and looked at her with concern. “I don’t like being there by myself, Hernan. We both work but I know when to stop, whereas you just stay at the club ‘til half the night and come right back here early in the morning.”

Mariah wondered if that was a look of guilt on his face, more than anything. At least he looked like he was hearing what she was saying. Courage surged in her veins and she ran with the opportunity.

“It feels like I haven’t seen you weeks.” Mariah bit her lip, and finally, she said, “I miss you.”

The moment those words were spoken, Hernan’s face set in a way that suggested he didn’t need to hear anything more. The lines contouring his eyes softened visibly, leaving Mariah to wonder if he too had melted, in his own way.

“You’re right,” he said brusquely. “Let’s go home.”

“Don’t you have people to see tonight?” Mariah started, surprising herself with her question.

“They can wait.” He pulled away from her, where she stood stunned and speechless, but pleased with herself too, and he went to get in his jacket. To one of the people working the inner doors of the club, Shades called, “Yo. Tell Sugar he’s off for the night. I’m taking Missus home.”

Mariah cocked a brow as high as it could possibly go and observed Hernan’s determined face. _Missus?_ Had he merely slipped up or was that what she was in his head? Hernan asked her if she was ready to go, and then led her to a different exit where he was parked.

At home, they indulged in a long, hot bath together. The minute he started rubbing her feet, Mariah’s feelings from earlier completely melted away. He riled her up so much, she blossomed for him and grew ripe for his picking. Once they got going, Hernan could barely contain himself, though whether it was due to a lack of physicality of late, or a newly discovered interest in her pregnant form, was beyond her. In any case, Mariah considered his excitement both a blessing and a reassurance.

Sometime close to dawn, Mariah stirred and rushed to the bathroom to relieve herself. She came back and tried to fall asleep but only wound up tossing and turning. She had forgotten to tell Hernan about selling the club and asking about their trip. After failed attempts to go back to sleep, Mariah propped herself up on an elbow and turned her attention to her man. Her soft spoken, mild mannered (of late) man, once, extremely violent and sociopathic, now, strangely, more tempered and human, with a light to him; her protector and her rock, the only constant in a string of insane changes in the last few years; her future, and the father of her child.

In the dim, morning light, Hernan looked at least a decade younger where he slept soundly. He’s always had a baby face, bless him, even if the years and doing time had left their mark. He never snored — a blessing — and was generally so quiet, there were times Mariah’s eyes snapped open at night so she could check to make sure he was still breathing. Now his breaths came slow and deep and, as she wondered if he dreamed of anything, Mariah realized just how much she loved this man, truly. Her manicured fingers splayed on his head, stroking his smooth hair. Of course she had loved before, but never had she considered devoting herself so wholeheartedly to one person.

_This is it,_ she thought. _He is it._

Something in his sleep made his eyes twitch momentarily and then, one corner of his mouth turned up in his signature smirk. Mariah smiled fondly, kissed his temple, and nuzzled into him. Hernan stirred for a few seconds with a sigh and adjusted his position. Sensing she was near, his arm curled around her shoulder and tucked her close to him. Within two minutes the steady rhythm of his breathing was back and off he returned to the depths of slumber.

Later, Mariah was doing her makeup when Hernan came back from the gym. He smelled clean, which meant he’d already showered there, and he set to packing up the duffel bag in his side of the closet space.

“We need to talk,” she told him.

Hernan pulled off his shirt, looked up, and nodded that she go on, indicating that he was listening. 

“I think you should sell the club, eventually. If you want to manage a place or stay in nightlife, buy another place downtown.”

“Where is this coming from?” he asked, butt naked while he fetched a clean suit.

“Just a thought I had yesterday.” Mariah filled in her brows. “Thinking about what Tilda said just got me so tired of this bullshit. The club is her birthright, there is no doubt about it, since she wants to be a Stokes so badly.”

Hernan pulled on his pants over snug Underarmour boxers and said, “What about our child?” 

Mariah shook her head. “I don’t want this for our child.” She eyed him through the mirror of her vanity. “Harlem’s Paradise is the crown jewel of Harlem but it is not the throne. I want something better for this one.” 

She fetched a different brush and continued to beat her face. “If we play this right and put the gangster shit behind us, we can really be something big, man. An arms dealer and a politician. It doesn’t get more powerful than that in America.”

Mariah quieted while Hernan mulled over those words. Once his vest was buttoned he came up to where Mariah sat applying her lipstick, set his hands on her shoulders, and said, “I think you’re right.”

“Of course you do,” she smiled at him in the looking glass. 

“But we can’t sell just yet.” Hernan came around to sit at the edge of the vanity, something he repeatedly did while she performed the ritual of applying makeup. She’d eventually just cleared that corner for his fine ass because she got tired of telling him not to sit there.

She eyed his position disapprovingly, only saying, “But you agree to sell, don’t you?”

“Once we’re not relying on the income it brings us.”

Mariah nodded and gave her completed face a satisfied look. This was as good as it was going to get for the day and she couldn’t be bothered to do much more than the basics.

“Do you have any hardware at the club?” she asked him suddenly.

“Nothing important,” Shades said after a moment’s consideration. “Some backup in case we need it. But the business wares are elsewhere.”

“Mass production? Is that why Hammer was there yesterday?”

“Yeah.” He grinned slowly and gestured, like he was about to spit a verse, “This is exactly what Diamondback was too distracted to see through. Running after Luke Cage when there was real work to be done.”

She knew he was right. Mariah was just happy he was handling this by himself and not using her as a mouthpiece. It wouldn’t have worked well anyway, considering her reputation had gone to shit. She said to him, “The moment we have enough liquid, you get rid of the club. I have never been more done with anything in my life.”

Hernan leaned further back against her vanity. Mariah opened her mouth to tell him he was going to break the damn thing, out here looking all swole. Of course she loved that he took his physical fitness so seriously, but this was Ikea furniture, purchased out of necessity and never quite replaced since they moved. 

“Are you busy this weekend?” he asked her randomly, beating her remark.

“No, why?”

“There’s a house I want us to see.”

“Think it has potential?” she wondered aloud. “The last one just seemed a little too isolated. Like some horror movie. I ain’t tryna die first in there.”

Hernan grinned at that, saying, “I think you’re going to like it. The price is within our range and it’s not too far upstate, so we could be in the city as needed. And I can see us being a family there.”

Mariah rose to collect her things and agreed to see the place. In turn, Hernan got into the rest of his suit and while they made their way to work, she snuck a glance at his bespectacled face and smiled to herself, remembering his words from earlier. If he could see them being a family somewhere, the house had to be special. Knowing Hernan, he’d probably scouted schools in the area already and done all this extra snooping around, just to be sure.

“What?” he asked after she’d spied for almost five minutes straight.

“Nothing.” Mariah ran a hand through her hair. “I’ve been meaning to ask you how the Christmas trip planning is going.”

Hernan didn’t say anything for a while, but a smile played on his mouth. 

“Hello?” she frowned, “do you need help? Where are we even staying? Are we doing touristy stuff? Cause you know how my feet hurt lately.”

“Don’t worry,” he said in his quiet voice. “I got everything under control.”

Mariah narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, I’d still like to know some basics. Where are we staying?”

“A hotel. You can see the Eiffel Tower from our suite.”

She pursed her lips at the word ‘suite’ and started to smile. So he’d gone luxury. She expected no less and saw he hadn’t been kidding. 

“Okay, and how long are we going for?”

“You should clear the last three weeks of December,” Hernan said.

“What?!” Mariah screeched. “Hernan, I can't take that much time off. Are you crazy?”

“Trust me,” he said with a smile her way. “I can send you the flight and hotel details this morning. Can you do me a favor though?”

Mariah looked at him as if to say, I thought you’d never ask.

“You been there before right?”

“Where do you think I learned to be boujee?”

“Good,” he replied, “then, if you have any favorite restaurants, I want to know about them. We’ll eat at all of them. I got a few I’d like to try as well.”

“Okay, sure.” She reached over to pat his thigh, a hunk of muscle. “Mama’s proud of you, you know, taking care of business like this. You’re doing real good.”

How men loved to be complimented on the things they did right. Mariah thought Hernan might morph into a gold star, considering the way he glowed at her remark. She hoped he’d carry that swagger in his chest for the rest of the day - and get his ass home at night. As usual, he not only dropped her off at work, but he walked her to the front. With his hands on her hips, he kissed her goodbye.

“Wait,” Mariah said, sensing something. Her fingers grasped his wrist, guiding his large palm across the expanse of her taut belly. She looked up at him and smiled, showing all of her beautiful teeth. “You feel that?”

Hernan removed his shades and stared at her in wonder. When the baby kicked a few more times beneath his palm, he nodded. They looked into each other’s eyes for a long while after, stalking a few more of the kicks.

“He’s eager to come through,” Hernan said.

“Oh, tsk. Well, she better keep her ass in there a little longer until month 9.”

Hernan took her hands and kissed her knuckles fondly, before moving to her forehead, where his mouth lingered affectionately. She felt like a little girl when he did stuff like that, a melancholy feeling, considering how early she’d had her innocence ripped from her. Deep down, Mariah was still that little girl, seeking protection in someone she could trust. She trusted Hernan wholly and he repeatedly said he’d protect her and their baby, no matter what.

“Go get our money,” she said to him at length.

Her winked at her, replying, “See you at home.”

And if that did not serve to add a spring in her step, she wasn’t sure what else in this world could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a different, Tilda related direction in mind for this chapter that obviously did not come to fruition. So, here’s a sweet one instead, as I figure out how I’d like this conflict to play out.


	8. Pillow Pets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shades and Mariah finally buy the perfect house. Tilda and her werewolves attack Harlem’s Paradise.

The house was bigger in person than Shades anticipated. It had four bedrooms, two full bathrooms up a gorgeous staircase, and a half bath downstairs, in a discreet nook not too far from the dining room. The bedrooms upstairs were newly furnished - as was the entire house - but Mariah whispered to him at some point of a few changes she would make. The master bedroom was spacious and luxurious, the second bedroom bright, furnished for a kid — they would need a crib there, Mariah said; the third bedroom was sunlit and roomy enough to be remodeled into a home office. There was a playroom at the end of one corridor and a guest room downstairs.

The vast living room, with its high windows continuing into the modern kitchen, made Shades pause and reflect. When kids grew up poor, with next to nothing like he had, they vowed to themselves to have it all one day. That often meant becoming impossibly rich and having a big house. He and Mariah may not have been impossibly rich (yet), but they were in a house that gave fuel to his childhood fantasies, the ones which kept him from giving up. 

In the kitchen, Shades saw Mariah eye the pristine island with satisfaction. She wasn’t much of a cook but, ever since reuniting, they spent many of their best moments together over a meal, or in a kitchen. He scanned the new, stainless steel appliances, and appraised the island height for a high chair. There was more room on this level for another lounge area, and maybe a play space for the baby. Mariah went to the large kitchen table and considered the dark wood. There was another space for dining, parallel to the living room, that seemed better suited for big parties.

All around was plenty of closet space up and downstairs, a three car garage, a front yard resting a good distance from a private gate surrounding the property, and a backyard in which Shades could imagine a toddler running around to his heart’s content. The house, private yet within a neighborhood, was perfect.

“I think we should take it,” he told Mariah softly at the end of their viewing. His hand moved to her belly and gently rested there. “The sooner we close, the sooner we can start making our adjustments for his arrival.” 

Mariah smirked at him. “You keep saying ‘he’ like you know it’s a boy.”

It was true. Though they had yet to learn the baby’s sex at birth, of late, Shades imagined a son, and it made him swell with pride to think about. 

“There’s more than enough room inside and out. I can sacrifice a fitness room. Both the Escalade and the Benz will fit in the garage, plus one more. And the kid will have plenty of space to play out back.” He eyed her carefully, trying to see if she would need anymore convincing. “What do you think?”

“I do love the house,” Mariah answered. “I think it’s the best we’ve seen so far, plus it’s only 45 mins from Harlem - on a good day.”

“It’s a good neighborhood. I checked out the school district,” he said. At this, Mariah smiled at him privately and Shades frowned slightly, not quite understanding. “And it’s top of the line for this area. There’s also a preschool, daycares, professional nannies—”

“Okay,” Mariah cut him off, raising her hand to both stop his sales pitch, and stroke his cheek. She’d gotten her nails done that morning and they looked elegant yet subtle in dark gold. “You don’t have to sell me on it. That’s the realtor’s job. Let’s take the house and start thinking about how we’re gonna move in.”

Shades smiled broadly at her, pleased and relieved they finally settled on a home. It may have been within their budget but a cool mill and half was still cute money. They signed the paperwork to put in a request for the purchase. It was approved about a business day or so later and they closed on the house. With one less thing to worry about, Shades breathed a little easier as he went about club business.

Harlem’s Paradise was coming up on one of its free weekends for all, including gents, and the lineup was solid. During the week, Shades made sure to scout himself a different workspace, so he could have a real office when the time came to sell the club. But there was nothing set in stone yet, which left him to handle small time deals in VIP. 

Unlike the previous owners of Harlem’s Paradise, Shades never celebrated too early in a deal. He was strictly business. Players came up in vagues while the music played downstairs, he pulled off his sunglasses to confer with them, and then they were escorted back downstairs to their tables. After closing three peddling gigs that evening, Shades considered getting himself home to his woman. It was only 1:30am and although Mariah might be asleep by now, she’d smile at him in the morning.

Some commotion downstairs, beyond the gaggle of people dancing to the music, caught his attention. Shades looked more closely and saw that a fight broke out. Security was usually pretty quick to handle any bullshit and throw people out. Shades paid them far too well, plus they were legit and trained, and thus, they never slacked off. He watched as they snatched a couple of ruffians by the nape and started escorting them out.

He turned away, no longer interested, and made his way to the stairs leading out of VIP. Shades tapped the code to lock the private entrance to his personal box on his way out, and signaled to the doorman up there that was he heading out. It was on his way down the steps, as he tried to steer clear of a hostess, that his spine tingled. There was something wrong and he couldn’t quite tell what.

Without warning, a bottle came crashing against him from behind. By some luck, Shades was trying to avoid someone else idling on the stairs, so the bottle crashed heavily against his shoulder. The aim was certainly his head. White wine spilled all over him. He turned to find the VIP hostess from a few moments ago, the bucket of drinks she held raised above her head. Shades frowned and quickly avoided being pommeled, taking her by the arms and throwing her to one side.

There was a deranged intent in her eyes and she got back up as quickly as she’d fallen. It was clear she had experimented with BLACK MARIAH. She came at him again, her teeth bared in an attempt to bite, and Shades swerved out of her way. The hostess went toppling down the stairs and landed at the base, her body snapped out of place. Shades’s eyes widened at her broken form.

“Fuck,” he murmured. 

He didn’t push her. She fell, trying to attack him, and there were at least a dozen people that saw it. But the damage was done and people rushed towards her. 

Shades heard shouting closeby and saw the dance floor turn into a mess. People were either running from each other or attacking one another like beasts. It was the worst case scenario and security moved quickly to try and contain the situation, to no avail. Reluctantly, Shades drew his gun and made his way carefully down to the club floor. 

That’s when he saw her at the entrance of the Paradise, with her own posse of wolf men. Tilda smirked at Shades in a way that made him shiver, for it was uncannily like Mariah’s expression, often cast so lovingly toward him. There wasn’t a shred of love in Tilda’s expression. She set her dogs loose on the crowd and chaos ensued. People were attacked and bitten, ripped to pieces and thrown about like rag dolls if they resisted. Shades knew it would be foolish to stay at the club at this rate. This was a takeover and Tilda had the manpower for it and the leverage of an unsuspecting crowd.

She started coming for Shades. He turned and saw musicians quickly scrambling off the stage. Shades raised his gun toward the ceiling, aimed, and fired expertly at two central lighting systems. People screamed. The club went pitch black and he lost sight of Tilda. Shades moved swiftly through the chaos to try and exit from the back. 

All at once, more shots rang out and people’s shouts grew louder. Shades took cover, watching the flashing lights of the rounds in each direction. For a moment he knelt frozen, heart hammering in his chest as he was taken back to a massacre in Brooklyn, one he was unwilling to be a part of. That it was occurring in Harlem’s Paradise, after everything he did to keep the place safe, chilled him to the bone more than he would have liked to admit.

When the shots silenced, Shades willed his limbs to move with great effort. Sirens rang in the distance. Shades made his way out to the kitchens for another side entrance. It wasn’t where he’d parked but it would have to do, until he could assess the extent of the damage at his club. 

They were waiting for him in the kitchens: two burly, hairy men, with unusually sharp teeth, and their mistress.

“You used to enter and leave Mommy’s house from the back too,” Tilda said, her face eerie in the dim, safety lights. “Just like a damn cockroach.” 

She extended her fingers to command her two henchmen to attack him and they moved on cue.

At that moment, time seemingly stood still, and Shades thought about his future with Mariah, how desperately he wanted to secure it. He told himself he was done taking innocent lives, and guilty lives were not his to judge. And when it came to kill or get killed? What then? Would karma really come back at him for fatally shooting someone that wanted to snap his neck?

_Yes._

Shades raised his weapon and shot the first man point blank, hitting him on the shoulder, and sending him sprawling back, not down, but weakened. He tried to get the other on the leg but he missed, so they collided in hand to hand combat. Now, Shades had been doing this a long time. He knew his strengths and he knew his way around people of many levels. Plus he’d been working out more consistently. It was not easy to hold his own against someone enhanced like Bushmaster or Cage. But these were feral beasts, one weakened by a gunshot, so Shades managed.

This was not to say he didn’t get his share of serious blows. On the contrary, Shades took quite a few blows, in spite of his advanced hand to eye coordination and quick reflexes, that sent him reeling. He did eventually manage to knock out his two opponents, though it stood to question for how long.

“You next, baby girl,” he said, panting, to Tilda.

She was too proud to step down from the challenge and Hernan discovered that herbs, drugs, and controlling people were her main strong suits. She stood her ground against him for a while but eventually, Shades gained the upper hand, and placed her in a chokehold. She struggled like a little bird in his grasp.

“Who’s the cockroach now?” he seethed, laughing hysterically, his teeth stained red with his own blood. “Huh?”

In truth, he would have killed her. But deep down, Shades knew without a doubt, that was a sure way to not be a father. To kill Mariah’s daughter, no matter how she’d changed, would tip the scales of fate against his favor for the rest of his life. At the end of the day, in spite of their strife, Shades wanted more than anything to have it all.

“You’re lucky I’m done with all this shit,” Shades said, releasing her just at the point when she passed out from asphyxiation. 

Her body fell limp at his feet but when he checked, she still had a pulse. Shades stumbled out of the kitchen and toward the back. He’d taken the wrong exit to his car but at least he was outside. The cold evening air cut right through his suit and made him extremely aware of every single bruise and injury. 

His head was definitely bleeding to one side and he could taste blood from more than just a busted lip. Shades took a few steps to circle the club and that’s when he saw the cops had swarmed the place. How they got here so fast was beyond him, since they were usually the last ones to show up.

“Put your hands in the air!” a voice shouted at him.

“On the ground now!” Several voices.

“On the ground! Hands behind your head!”

“Get on the ground now!”

Shades could see bright lights, with several rifles and handguns pointed at him. Were they waiting for him? He laughed to himself at the irony of it all and faced them, slowly raising his hands and lowering to his knees. Digits folded against the fade of his neat haircut and he felt tenderness at his skull. Through one of the lights, a figure authoritatively made its way over to him.

“Hernan Alvarez.” Detective Misty Knight, as always, his number one stalker and his biggest fan, grabbed his arms and roughly forced a pair of handcuffs on his wrists. They immediately started to throb violently and she pulled him to his feet. “You are under arrest for inciting a riot at Harlem’s Paradise.”

Shades scoffed and straightened up. “Are you serious?”

“You have the right to remain silent—“

“Why would I incite a riot at my own club?”

“Anything you say can and will be used against you—“

“You’ll find Tilda and two large human huskies passed out by the dishwashing station.”

At last, Misty paused to eye him head on. “Tilda is here?”

“You’re welcome.” Shades licked the deep cut at his lip, tasting metal.

Nonetheless, Misty marched Shades over to a police car and shoved him inside without watching his head. He was taken to the station with an intense headache and the NYPD extended him every courtesy, by taking as long as it was godly possible to book and detain him in interrogation.

Once in the room, Shades put his head on his arm and closed his eyes. Sleep did not come to him, as he was worried about how to clean up the mess at the club, and whether Tilda had taken over or not. Around 6:30am, Shades sat up and began to feel a bit lightheaded. The blood on him had dried up but he thought he might have a concussion. It was to be seen later, if anyone ever came to talk to him or let him out of his damn room.

He knew how everyone in this department, perhaps Misty the most, considered him little more than the dirt on their shoes. That didn’t bother Shades, because he knew his own past, and the life he’d chosen. But the path he was on now was different. Of course, only Mariah bought it, because they were in this together. In the eyes of everyone else, he was still just some low life, gutter criminal, who got lucky when serving time, and was now trying to go legit. That, regardless of how hard he worked, or how well he dressed, was a perception that would not be easily changed.

At 7:30am, Misty finally came to have a little chat with him. She had herself a cup of coffee and a thick folder in her robotic limb. 

“Good morning,” she said, feigning pleasantness. “We didn’t want to disturb you when we saw you dozing off. Sleep good?”

Shades eyed her flatly and said nothing, thus, Misty decided to show him some pictures. There was the dead waitress who came at him, multiple people on the dance floor, and some others Shades didn’t even recognize. Misty said this wasn’t looking good and that multiple eyewitnesses had seen him fire the first shot.

“Tell me what happened,” she said, “and I’ll see what I can do about your current situation.”

Shades scoffed softly and it turned into a laugh. He honestly didn’t know how many times he’d seen this room and sat across this very woman. The last time had been when he spilled his guts out and came clean, about Seagate and Carl, about Mariah, about Che, God, he missed Che. That had been the night Janis spat in his face, like he wasn’t shit.

“You told me that Tilda was at the club, but when we checked, we didn’t find her,” Misty said.

“So, she escaped,” Shades shrugged. 

“That’s not what it looks like.”

Shades stared Misty in the eye, wondering what she wanted from him. He wasn’t going to incriminate himself. That was just plain stupid. But was that really what she expected?

“What does it look like, hm?” he asked her. His voice lowered and, tongue darting across his cut lip, he purred, “You need help with your homework again? You wanna work some kinks out, hmm?”

Misty looked repulsed by his advances. She scowled, saying, “You had some players at the club.” The folder was opened and she showed him photos of his business contacts, one of them sprawled dead. “Shit went sideways, you fired, people got killed. Like this young woman. Your VIP hostess. Tell me, did you snap her neck yourself?”

Shades grit his teeth and gazed at the photo. That girl was actually nice. Shades remembered interviewing her. Last night, she was on something; she came at him. He moved out of the way and she fell. Didn’t they have eyewitnesses for that?

“You know, I heard you and your Momma are going on a little vacation.” Misty smirked at Shades when she saw the surprise on his face. “You know you can’t travel if you get your passport revoked, right? Cause we can do that, we can take your passport away from you.”

At last, Misty hit a nerve. Shades had two options. Tell her everything that happened, or invoke counsel. He checked his watch: 7:47 am. Mariah must be waking up by now. She wouldn’t find him beside her and he was sure she would pout a bit and pretend like it didn’t bother her. She’d have a shower and check the news and see what happened at the club. She’d try his cellphone, probably get no answer, and then at last, she’d come for him. Shades was sure of it and he estimated that to take about 2-3 hours.

Fixing Misty with his light brown eyes, Shades said, “I want a lawyer.”

“Why did you kill your waitress? Why fire shots in the club?” Misty persisted.

“Lawyer,” he said.

“Hernan Alvarez, I swear on my father’s grave—“

“Fine,” he snapped. Shades felt a wave of lightheadedness come over him and frankly, he doubted he’d last his counsel being invoked. “I didn’t touch the waitress. She came at me with a bottle. Check my shoulder, I’m sure there’s a bruise.”

Misty’s face had stilled out of its anger when he started talking, like it was the last thing she expected him to actually do.

“She tried to attack me again, she looked all feral. I think she’d been using. She was at the top of the steps and I just swerved out of her way and she fell. It was self defense, people saw me. An autopsy will probably tell you that I couldn’t have given her those injuries.” 

He sighed and rubbed the corners of his eyes. At his temples, dry, caked blood chipped off a bit. “Tilda, uh, came in the club with her pillow pets. There was chaos on the floor already, people attacking each other. I blew out a ceiling light for cover. Then someone opened fire, maybe more than one person. I don’t know. Tilda and her dogs caught up to me in the kitchen. I knocked the three of them out and then you arrested me.”

He stared at Misty and tried rubbing off the dry blood stains from his digits. “That’s all that happened. I didn’t start a riot. It’s my club, I have no reason to. You want to keep me here longer, fine. But I got nothing else to tell you and frankly, I can’t really see too straight right now so, if you’re not charging me with anything, I think I should see a doctor.”

Misty cast her eyes upon his head and made an annoyed face. She sighed and collected her pictures back in the folder. A few moments later, the door clicked open and Ridley barged in the room. Her large eyes looked sternly from Shades to Misty and, closely behind her trailed Mariah, obviously hastily dressed and not wearing any makeup, and Ben Donovan. The lawyer quickly advised Shades not to say another word but it was a little too late for that.

Shades locked eyes with Mariah and at last, he experienced relief. After all, Tilda could have simultaneously gone after her mother. But it looked like for this time, Shades was the target. Mariah was okay and suddenly, Shades didn’t care too much that he felt like sleeping and passing out at the same time.

“You people are vultures,” Mariah spat at Misty and Priscilla. “You are goddamn hyenas.” She went right to Shades and defensively put her hand over his arm, just like a mother to her cub. “Hernan and I served our sentence. We got out. Our records were expunged - legally. And still, you try to bring us down. Don’t you have real work to do?”

“Is my client being charged with anything?” Ben Donovan sounded off.

“No,” Inspector Ridley replied. “Mr. Alvarez is free to go.”

Mariah clapped back, saying, “You should be out there stopping Tilda and that drug paralyzing Harlem. Leave. Us. ALONE!”

Shades stood, surprised by Mariah’s ability to holler so early in the morning, and shook his head. It wasn’t worth it, said the movement. He pulled on his blazer with a wince and Mariah’s gaze quickly softened as she helped him smooth the fabric on. Her eyes roved his face with concern, a gloved hand taking his chin, as she looked unhappily at his injuries. Misty rolled her eyes. Mariah had something thick draped over one arm and Shades saw it was one of his Berluti coats, which she helped him in, even as he made to don it himself.

“Good,” Ben went on heatedly, “my client will be pressing charges against your department for this detainment in his condition.”

“No, I won’t,” Shades answered. He turned away from Mariah and leveled Misty and Priscilla evenly. “I told you - you’re wasting your time. If you don’t make the right moves now, Harlem is done. Just like last time.”

Giving his back to the detectives, Mariah took his arm, and they left the precinct. He’d lost a pair of ray bans last night but Mariah thankfully brought him another and he was grateful. Outside, they were swarmed by reporters with mics and cameras, all of whom were pushed through and ignored. Mariah insisted they go to the hospital to get him checked out and, in spite of his aversion to such a place, Shades agreed, in order to soothe her temper and keep her anxiety at bay. She didn’t need any more stress in her condition.

It turned out he had a mild concussion and some bruised ribs. He also needed a few stitches and painkillers. Otherwise, just really stubborn external bruises that would eventually clear up and no longer impede his mobility. Sugar reported to them at the apartment later on, saying Harlem’s Paradise was still under yellow investigation tape by the police. 

“I want to know when it comes off,” Shades said. Once they’d gotten home, he’d changed into a matching sweatshirt and pants. “And have some guys keep an eye on the area.”

“What you wanna do about Tilda if we see her?” Sugar asked.

He stood in their kitchen, large and out of place, and Mariah was leaning over the sink where she struggled with her ice tray. At Sugar’s question, she turned to look expectantly at Hernan, waiting for his answer.

“Just keep your eyes open,” Shades said. “Don’t let anyone slip up. And get somebody to organize a memorial for those who were killed last night at the club.”

“You got it.” Sugar left them with that and Shades rose to see him out, before making his way slowly toward the couch. 

He sat there and sighed deeply. Shades needed his computer at the club. He’d probably sneak in at some point and get all the important shit off it, even though it was encrypted. He could hear Mariah moving through the kitchen, boiling water, wrapping some ice up, making something hot to drink. She came to him with a mug of what smelled suspiciously like tea and tried to coax him into drinking.

“No, thanks,” he said, making a halfway sour face.

“What _do you_ wanna do about Tilda?” she asked, moving instead to pat his head bruising with wrapped ice. “I mean, we can’t just take her out. Even though I don’t like how she came at you, she’s still my daughter.”

The cold shocked him a bit. Shades’s mouth twitched as he recalled how she was at his mercy last night, how close he came to killing Tilda. It was ironic but Tilda staying alive was as integral to their future as anything else. His intense belief in karma kept him in line. Shades wanted the good that could come with building a family with Mariah. If Tilda self destructed, so be it. But she would not fall at his hand.

“You’re right,” he said at length, turning to Mariah. “I won’t take her out.”

“What about a parlay, then?” Mariah suggested. She set down the ice in a nearby bowl, thought for a bit, then said, “Offer to sell her the club.”

“She won’t bite. Like you said, it’s her birthright.”

“Well, do we just give up?” Mariah frowned. “We need that money, Hernan. If not in income, then at least the real estate. Your gun sales still aren’t steady enough to support us.”

“They will be.” Shades frowned too and grasped her knee. “I got a couple under my belt. The next ones will be mass produced. That’s big money and my contacts will expand. Don’t worry. I got us.”

She sighed and leaned against him, opting to sip on the tea in silence. When she tried to force feed it to him again, Shades relented and took the mug, taking a large swig and burning his tongue a bit.

“We can sell early,” he said suddenly. 

Mariah turned her face to him. “Cash in on the real estate while we still can and then what?” 

“And then invest the money.” He looked her in the eye, starting to smile. “But we do it right. Nobody gets their heads cut off. And when the money triples—“

“Or quadruples—“

“I open another club downtown and keep us flush forever.”

Mariah matched his smile and sighed contentedly, shaking her head. She took the mug from him and sipped. Shades snickered.

“I thought you made this for the patient,” he murmured, kissing her hair when she nestled against him.

“You don’t know how relieved I am,” she replied. “When Sugar called me to say shots were fired at the club, I—“

Mariah faltered and Shades heard what she meant in her voice. Her fear of losing him moved him. It motivated him to be better, to earn them money and keep her comfortable. He reached for the woman’s chin and placed a deep kiss upon her lips.

“I’m just glad you’re fine,” she went on, her words softer. “You can go about trying to sell the club and invest. But after the holidays. For now, you need your rest.”

Shades perked up at her mention of the holidays. Their trip to Paris was coming up in December. And strangely enough, Misty knew about it, even though Shades had been extremely private going about the procedure. Even renewing their passports, which had been a pain in the ass, was done on the downlow.

“Can I ask you something?” he said to Mariah.

“Mhmm.”

“Who else knows about our plans to go to Paris?”

Mariah stiffened next to him and the hairs on the back of Shades’ neck raised on their ends. The last time they’d had a conversation like this, Che died the following night. The thought of a snitch was grisly for both of them and Mariah immediately understood what he was really asking.

“God damn him,” she growled. “I knew missing that hitout on him would bite me in the ass one day.”

Shades grimaced grotesquely and cast Mariah a long, calculating look. “So, it’s Alex then.”

“I mentioned it to him,” she groaned. “Shit. He’s been so good with everything. I’m sure it just slipped out and I just said it. Why?” Mariah’s eyes widened momentarily. “What makes you think he told somebody?”

“Misty.” Shades sat forward with a grunt. “She tried threatening to revoke our passports earlier.”

Mariah sucked her teeth. “I’d like to see her sorry robocop ass try. Trick. Punk ass bitch.”

“Why would Alex be talking to the cops?” Shades wondered aloud.

Mariah didn’t know, but she would be on her guard around him. Shades told her to be careful, saying he could spare someone to watch her office at all times aside from Sugar.

“I don’t like thugs, Hernan,” Mariah replied. 

“Well, then you need a new assistant.”

“You never liked Alex,” she snorted.

They both reclined and chuckled at such a thing. Mariah curled carefully against him and Shades put his arm around her. He wasn’t exactly fond of Alex yet he didn’t quite plan to take him out. The discovery raised some questions and he’d have to get to the bottom of it. He couldn’t have Alex around Mariah if the male was babbling details about their lives to the cops who wanted little more than to put them back behind bars.

It was yet another thing to worry about and handle. Along with buying a white crib for their baby and moving into their new house and selling the club and investing; dealing with Tilda without killing her and figuring out what their plan was when time for delivery came close.

Shades closed his eyes. _After the holidays_, he told himself, at least looking forward to Paris with his girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, my Tilda conflict chapter. I’m happy with how it turned out. Alex being something of a snitch surprised me while writing. It was initially just an explanation for why Misty knows certain things. But I think it might be a good link to the elusive Benefactor, someone I’m sure the cops would love to know and have on file.
> 
> I’ve decided to cap the fic at 10 chapters, plus a potential epilogue or two. That means Paris is coming up and then, the baby’s birth (with all its drama).


	9. Paris, Je T’aime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shades and Mariah go to Paris for Christmas.

December couldn’t come quickly enough. Any trepidation Mariah once held about taking a couple of weeks off to travel with Hernan soon vanished, as the two of them nearly drowned in their respective work. There was a lot to look after at Harlem’s Paradise and she had events back to back. Keeping Alex at arm’s length without arousing his suspicions was another part time job in itself. Then, there was the house, setting up a security system, purchasing extra furniture and baby stuff, remodeling the nursery, and actually starting to move in bit by bit.

On top of all that, Mariah, on a whim, signed herself and Hernan up for childbirth classes. She may have been pregnant before but it was over twenty years ago now. Plus, Hernan was a first time father and they needed to be ready, yesterday. Not only would they need to know just what to expect around delivery, they needed training on having a small human around them before they secured a nanny. With all that happening, it seemed a true miracle by the lord and savior himself when the second week of December finally came to its close.

New York City was frozen solid, snowy, and Harlem hadn’t been spared. Mariah could only imagine Paris to be the same, though, since they would be on holiday, the cold would be tolerable. She started packing a few days before they were meant to leave, one suitcase for each of them. Aside from casual clothes, Hernan said he only wanted to take one or two suits. They were outfits she had seen before. Mariah was surprised. In all honesty, she was a bit suspicious about this Paris thing and how little he spoke of its details.

It had taken a lot of self control not to peek into his expenses on his personal account. There was nothing unusual in the joint account. She wanted to see if he’d made any major purchases with jewelers. If he was going to pop the question, Mariah preferred to be ready, rather than surprised; then again, if he didn’t, it would be all the same. She was content with his relentless commitment and did not think he would ever leave her. They may as well already be married.

The eve before their flight, Hernan tucked their luggage in the Benz and went over a couple of final details. Passports, checking in, boarding passes. She liked his diligence and resourcefulness, because it made life that much easier. She handled things like double checking their out of office emails, having Dr. Ramani on speed dial, and other such sundries.

They flew Delta out of JFK, after getting through security and making their way to the VIP lounge, in order to relax prior to boarding in first class. Hernan had really gone over every detail, though, as Mariah eyed him once they settled in their wide, luxury seats, she wondered if this was his first time flying anything better than economy.

“You been on a plane before?” she joked.

“Of course.” He frowned slightly and asked her how she thought he’d come over from Puerto Rico.

That was fair enough, but she was certain he hadn’t been to France before, and he definitely didn’t speak French. This would be interesting. The flight was extremely smooth and comfortable. Their baby played a couple of rounds of soccer before growing docile enough for Mariah to attempt some sleep. 

Hernan was knocked out cold from the moment the plane left the ground, which was actually a bit frustrating since Mariah wanted to talk. Then again, this was meant to be their vacation, so she couldn’t fault him. Of late, even in sleep, she could see him wrestle with troublesome thoughts, his brow knitted, sometimes glistening with sweat. Mariah wished she could soothe his worries. He hadn’t really been the same ever since the business with Tilda. Thankfully, the witchling was currently occupied with Luke Cage stalking her, which was perfect because Mariah and Shades needed a vacation from all of them.

They landed at Charles De Gaulle around 10am local time. Hernan shot awake at once.

“Damn, already?” he murmured sleepily.

“It’s been 6 hours, baby,” Mariah said. 

She rose to stretch while he collected her carry on from overhead. They made their way through Passport Control without much hassle. Shades handled their luggage on a trolley and Mariah tucked her hand through his arm.

“How are we getting to the hotel?” she mused, “Uber?”

“Something like that,” Shades responded.

They exited arrivals to see a group of people gathered behind a low fence, eyeing the newcomers expectantly as they made their way over. Some were there awaiting family. The first line was made up mostly of men with signs. One of them, dressed impeccably in a suit and coat, held one which read in bold, black letters: ALVAREZ.

_Okay, Hernan. I see you._

Mariah looked at Hernan and bit back her smile, playing it cool. She didn’t know when he grew so boujeefied but she figured it must have been sometime around the time they became exclusive. They greeted their driver, who took over their luggage and led them to a sleek, black, SUV Benz, in the back of which they found complimentary coffee and pastries freshly purchased and still warm for them.

“Vive la France,” Mariah said.

They stayed at the Plaza Athénée, a palace among hotels, located in the 8th arrondissement, about 40 mins from the airport. Mariah felt like royalty from the moment the Benz door was drawn open for her. Shades had really, truly outdone himself. Their suite, with its unobstructed view of the Eiffel Tower, literally stole her breath.

“This is really beautiful,” she said, turning to find him approaching.

Hernan looked really proud of himself and Mariah reflected that, had he asked her for anything at that moment, she would have given it in a heartbeat. He said he was glad she liked it, then asked how she was feeling. Though the flight had been extremely comfortable, Mariah longed to soak in a hot bath and relax for the remainder of the morning.

So they did just that, spending much needed quality time together, speaking of everything and nothing at all, sharing with each other things they already knew and things that, even after all these years, had not been touched on. They opted for room service for lunch, agreeing to dine out that evening.

The street the hotel lay on was lined with luxury shopping. Mariah would have plenty of time to indulge, she was sure, though a part of her also craved the simplicity of being on vacation. She imagined waking up to Hernan every day in their huge, comfortable bed, with nothing at all to do except enjoy his sweet face and gentle smile. She pictured them strolling around, holding hands as they got lost, only to stumble across an impossibly French cafe and cradle warm mugs of hot drinks as it snowed outside, and the world passed them by.

“You notice the Christmas tree?” Hernan asked her.

They were curled in the massive tub, warm water and bubbles glistening on their skin. The luxurious suite was so big Mariah had barely seen all of it, let alone notice a Christmas tree.

“Is it decorated?” she replied, after shaking her head.

“Looks like it. Maybe we can get one or two more baubles for it, just ours.”

She reflected fondly on that, trying to remember what Christmas used to be like for her as a child. She remembered trying to make it special for a little Cornell, playing secret Santa with Pete and Mabel. There was a period of her upbringing that was gentler, almost happy. And then the latter half, a dark cloud that never truly left.

“Did you celebrate Christmas growing up?” she asked Hernan.

“In Ponce, when I was really young,” he answered. “It wasn’t shit but, my mom used to try and make it special. After we moved, there wasn’t really much of anything to celebrate. When you need to put food on the table, that’s what comes first.”

“Did Mama Mabel ever help you?” Mariah asked, carefully craning her neck to try and see his expression. She failed though she could feel him swallow thick against her before answering.

“Plenty of times.” His digits caressed her collarbone, absently forming circles on her skin. “Thanksgiving turkey. School stuff. You don’t remember but, my mom used to send me up the brownstone to say ‘thank you’. Ask if there’s anything Mama Mabel needed, errands, if we could pay the favors back somehow.”

Mariah didn’t remember, which was a shame. There were so many people crossing the doors of the brownstone it was impossible to place all of them. Hernan huffed softly beneath her.

“I remember this one day after school,” he went on, in his slow, measured way, “I went by the brownstone to drop off pastellitos. A small ‘thank you’, in tupperware and wrapped aluminum, from my mom to your grandmother. She’d spent all night making them and got right back to work the counter at Cuchifritos on 116th.” 

He quieted for a moment at the recollection, and Mariah wondered what it did to him. “She told me ten times that morning not to eat them. _Take them to Mama Mabel Stokes after school, papi, then you come to the counter to eat._ I raced over to the brownstone, stomach growling. I almost didn’t make it without stealing a bite. But I held off and delivered. That was the first time I saw you.”

Mariah heard the smile in his tone at that last. She straightened up, inadvertently pressing against his eggplant and turned to better see him. Knowing Mama Mabel, she’d probably thrown out the offering, unless she was feeling merciful and handed it out to one of her underlings.

“How old were you?” she asked.

“I don’t know, maybe 8. I remember you looked so tall. So pretty.” He huffed a soft laugh. “I couldn’t stop staring at you.”

“You been admiring me since you was 8?” Mariah was surprised. “What kinda 8 year old were you?” 

She knew Shades ran around with Cornell in the late 90s but it hadn’t occurred to her that their story began much earlier than that. Hernan placed his big hands on her shoulders, kneading her gentle but firm and soon had her relaxed against him. When eventually he ceased, his hand traveled down to her bump.

“There’s been a lot of chicks,” he said.

“Now you’re just showing off.”

“No. It’s true. But you were the first. I had a crush on you before I even knew what that meant.” His mouth pecked her head. “‘Che was my closest friend and you know what we were but, I’ve always wanted you.”

“And now that you have me,” she said, “is it everything you thought it would be?”

“Oh, way different.”

“What?!” Mariah jerked back up and shot him a petulant look.

Hernan laughed and she asked him playfully what the hell that was supposed to mean.

“It’s not what I expected.” His brows shot up languidly. “You have to understand that I never even thought I would come close to, you know...”

“Having me,” Mariah finished.

“I always thought in the back of my mind, ‘maybe one day’. Even when I came out of Seagate, I had my doubts. You were a Stokes. I was no one. And then,” his lip curled into a smirk, “after all the shit with Diamondback, that night at the club, you kissed me.” Hernan exhaled softly, as if that was the night he was done, like it changed his life. 

Mariah smiled, remembering the moment well, the grey suit he wore, and the look on his face in spite of the shades. Hernan had been leaner back then, a hungry, dangerous look to his eyes any time she saw them.

“When did you decide?” she hummed. “To commit. At what moment?”

Hernan didn’t hesitate. Mariah was expecting something about when they got out of prison. But he surprised her by saying, “When you talked to me about ‘the light’. When you asked me if I didn’t want to give Hernan a chance, put away Shades.”

“Why that moment?” Mariah sat up and turned fully to him.

Hernan shrugged and let his fingers caress her arm. “It was the first time someone other than myself saw more for me. Something better. I admired you when I was a kid and growing up. But after you said that,” he frowned thoughtfully, “I knew you were the one I wanted to commit to.”

Mariah’s heart fluttered. Damn Hernan and his unreserved sweetness with her. She’d been so shady to him, and him to her. But still, he made her feel in a way no man honestly had.

“Is that when you started planning to knock my ass up?” she teased.

“That was an accident and you know it,” he shot back, his tan face tinting endearingly. His ears always turned more pink and Mariah found it entirely irresistible. She patted his cheek affectionately.

“But you had to have thought about a future. You remember what you said, when you found the old room we shared, getting me off the street?”

“Of course,” he breathed.

“You wanted to be together no matter what. Regardless of the shit in the past. _Let’s move on, build something stronger_, you said.” She pursed her lips and smoothed his damp hair away from his brow. “Were you thinking about kids?”

“Honestly?” His brows arched and the corners of his mouth dipped. “No. I never thought about being a father. When your own is an abusive piece of shit, you spend your whole life trying not to be like him.” Hernan huffed mirthlessly. “Then you realize, after all the people you’ve killed, maybe the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

It was true that Hernan spent a good part of his life in violence. Mariah too, surrounded by violence, partaking in it in the worst possible ways.

“I was thinking about making moves with you,” he said, eyeing her. “Get some respect, live comfortably. I was thinking about making you happy, forever. I didn’t think we could have something even better. And I didn’t think you wanted to be a mama.”

Mariah didn’t wanna be a mama but that had slowly changed over the past few months. Knowing she wasn’t at it alone and being in an appropriate relationship with the father certainly helped. It felt like maybe this time would be different, real, and normal. 

“I think,” she sighed, “deep down, you wanna be a daddy.”

“‘Course I do,” Hernan replied.

Mariah shook her head. “You misunderstand,” she said. “You spent your life running from turning into your daddy, but under all that, you just need the chance to be a father, to do it better.” 

Slowly, Hernan smiled softly at her. His little, unbearably cute half smile was playing on his face and she realized it was absolutely hopeless. She was utterly obsessed with this man, his mood and his whims, his hopes and dreams.

“I know you’ll be better,” Mariah went on. “I’ve seen the way you look at the ultrasound photo on the fridge sometimes.”

He blushed and looked down when she said that, unaware that he was so obvious. Mariah took his chin and raised his eyes. 

“Look at me. You’re gonna make a good daddy, Hernan.”

He moved in on her, wrapped his strong, warm arms all over her, and kissed her fondly on the mouth. Mariah didn’t protest when he took her right then and there. Later, they rinsed off and dried up, bundled up in the thick hotel robes. In the evening, they dressed for dinner and made way to the hotel restaurant. Mariah would learn in time Hernan had made reservations spanning a great deal of Paris, her favorite restaurants included.

During their time in the city, they dined on crepes, both sweet and savory, foie gras, beef steak, crème brûlée, coq au vin, macarons, baguettes, all manners of quiches, ratatouille, and escargots. Hernan went crazy for huîtres, which Mariah avoided, and she indulged in soupe à l’oignon, while he sang the praises of cassoulet. When they went to Quartier Latin, Hernan turned into some kind of Cuban Papi, talking about ‘they should consider moving here’. He even tried saying it was just like Spanish Harlem. Mariah shook her head and called him crazy.

She knew enough French to get by and she learned Hernan wasn’t too bad himself. His manners were impeccable and gentlemanly, as he _Bounjour_’ed, _Merci_’ed, and _Au Revoir_’ed his way through multiple encounters. There were many people in Paris who were fluent in English, but greeting and thanking them in their own language went a long way. They dined at the Eiffel Tower one evening, with reservations to skip a reasonable line.

They went to the Louvre, saw the Champs Elysées, took pictures by the Arc de Triomphe, and even braved the trek up to Sacré Cœur in Montmartre. More than once, Hernan asked if she wanted to take a break from the steps, but Mariah was fine, as long as she kept one hand to his, and another to a railing. She needed a nap back at the hotel after all that walking though. The street of painters charmed Mariah, and Hernan, silly tourist, paid for her likeness to be sketched. In the end it turned out fairly close to how she looked, so Mariah allowed it. 

They returned to Montmartre another day for dinner and a show at the Moulin Rouge. Mariah has only seen that many titties out at Mama Mabel’s brownstone, growing up, when white folks used to come around for entertainment. Though in all fairness, it was a spectacular show and naturally, Hernan seemed to greatly enjoy it. 

He dedicated a day to see Versailles, on a private tour that allowed them to skip the lines and indulge in a wonderful three course lunch. Although it was chilly that day, the palace was exuberant and breathtaking. They both laughed when Mariah said that Louis XIV was on some gangsta shit for real. Hernan said their next house should look a little something like the palace. Maybe they could have a hall of mirrors. 

They only lasted twenty minutes in the huge gardens, too cold for exploration, but Mariah had at the very least plenty of pictures to look back on. They’d even been lucky enough to get a couple photo in front of the Poseidon statue, with the palace behind them in full view. 

She loved Le Marais and their visit to the Picasso museum. They saw theatre, opera, went to a movie. They went to Père Lachaise all bundled up and Hernan dared her to kiss Oscar Wilde’s tomb. She didn’t, opting to repeatedly and annoyingly kiss him instead. On Christmas Eve, Hernan asked Mariah to dress up for dinner. 

So far, the two of them had been going strong in casual, comfy chic. With her feet aching now and then, Mariah always took care to be as warm and comfortable as possible. As for Hernan, Mariah thought he just looked really cute 100% of the time. She envied his trim form, in his sexy tracksuits under designer coats, and his fitted crewnecks and joggers, wondering how he would feel if he was the one pregnant. 

While they dressed for the Christmas Eve dinner, she wondered if he was planning to pop the question. Then again, Mariah didn’t think it was like him to just ask out of the blue. They had discussed a lot when it came to the life they wanted together, but they hadn’t touched on marriage. She wasn’t sure marriage was necessary, to be quite honest, and maybe he wasn’t either. After all, their bond had grown unshakeable in the past few years and a ring wouldn’t make it any stronger. 

He wore his dark teal suit, grey tie, white shirt with a silver watch. Mariah looked elegant in white, makeup done, new nails, hair looking perfect. At the car, he beat the chauffeur to her door and got it for her, hand hovering close to her waist until she settled comfortably inside. 

“Where we going?” she asked. 

“You’ll see.” 

It turned out to be the Seine River. Hernan had reserved them a dining space aboard a cruise through Paris and, although it was not entirely private (other couples had the same idea), their view of the city and Seine was unbeatable. Mariah marveled, the city lights dancing across her face while she enjoyed her meal, and when she turned to catch Hernan’s eye, she found it on her. 

“What’s on your mind?” he asked her. 

“I’m thinking there’s nowhere I’d rather be than here with you,” Mariah answered. Her smile was genuine. “Why, what you thinking?” 

Hernan wasn’t smiling with his mouth, but there was a lot that his expression conveyed. His eyes were on hers and he reached for her hand. If he was going to propose, it was now or never. Mariah expected him to say he was thinking ‘will she marry him’. 

His grip on her hand grew stronger. When at last he opened his mouth, the man said, “I love you, Mariah, with so much of myself, there’s no part left to protest. I’m thinking I want you to hear that... to know it.” 

Mariah wasn’t sure whether she correctly heard his voice crack toward that last. What she did know was, his words were as good as a proposal, better even. They were not exactly a mushy couple, though they had their sweet moments. ‘I love you’ was something they hardly said, perhaps because words could so easily lose their weight, when actions could be so much louder. And so, for Hernan to say it now, as they cruised along beautiful Paris on Christmas Eve, was enough to make Mariah break down. 

He stood and she did too. They both wanted the same thing and met halfway their pristine table to share a kiss. She felt his thumb dry the tears from her cheek. 

“I love you too, Hernan,” Mariah whispered. “Hard.” 

A light flashed near them, the shutter of a camera obvious. She pulled away and turned to find the cruise photographer beaming at them, saying _continuez_! _continuez_! 

“Did you hire this clown too?” Mariah asked Hernan with a laugh, as she lightly dabbed her eyes. 

“No,” he said, “but I asked to have him stick around us.” 

She laughed more loudly, they shared another kiss, then sat back down. After the meal, they took more professional photos aboard the vessel, with the best views of the city behind them. Mariah cheesed like a six year old in every picture. Hernan mostly kept a straight face, maybe a smirk, unless they posed mid kiss, when he kept a hand on her belly. It made her want to ask him to smile genuinely but, just being with him left her far too elated to trouble him with such a triviality. He would smile when he wanted to. 

When the clock struck midnight, Hernan took her by the waist from behind, and murmured, “Merry Christmas, mama.” 

“Merry Christmas, baby,” she replied. 

The next morning found Hernan obsessed with finding more baubles for the tree. They could have done this on any of the days before Christmas, when the stores were actually open, but it had apparently slipped his mind and the man was unwilling to light the tree until he had his own shit. That’s how they spent Christmas Day. It snowed in the middle of the afternoon while they searched for an open store. Mariah’s feet started hurting and she wished they hadn’t left the driver. Hernan was on Google Maps, taking her one way then another, and frankly, she had no idea what was going on. 

“I’m cold, Hernan,” she said at last. “The baby is kicking so that means he’s cold too.” 

He turned to her like he was thinking about something completely unrelated and hadn’t even heard what she said. She snapped a finger in his face and his eyes cleared up. 

“What?” he said. 

“I’m freezing. Can we give the ornament hunt a rest?” 

“But it’s Christmas Day.” 

“Hernan!” 

“Okay, okay.” With a laugh, he thumbed his chin briefly, thoughtfully, and turned in the opposite direction. 

“Where are we going now?” she asked, squeezing his hand after they walked nearly a block. “Back to the car, I hope.” 

“No, right here.” There was a large coffee shop right in front of them, probably the only thing open right now. “You’re cold, right?” 

Mariah sighed, thinking at least she would get to sit. They entered and he got her to settle in a huge sofa. Mariah burrowed into her thick coat and comically large scarf, upon which fresh snowflakes melted too slowly for her taste. 

“Coffee or tea?” Hernan asked her, sniffling. 

He looked like a damn reindeer while he stood waiting for her answer. Even if she wanted to be mad at him, she couldn’t, with that red nose of his. 

“Chocolate. And a quiche. And if they have anything sweet and fruity, like cake, I’ll take that too.” 

When he went, Mariah looked out the window at the snow falling and reflected this was actually what she thought their vacation would entail. A few minutes later, Hernan returned with their order number awaiting to be served and another unexpected package. 

“Guess what they sell at the counter of this place?” he said, triumphantly raising packaged ornaments and a star. 

“Oh, thank God,” she said, deeply relieved. “I don’t know how much longer I could have lasted looking for those things.” 

Hernan said, “I’ll have the driver come pick us up here when we’re done.” 

Mariah nodded approvingly. Hernan removed his coat and she wondered how he wasn’t cold, only wearing a thick, long sleeved, dark navy wool shirt, probably with an undershirt below, but still. He paused and eyed her, looking very amused. 

“You look like you’re about to melt inside your scarf,” he remarked. 

She made a face and shot him a girly smile. “Okay, and?” 

“And you got snow in your headband.” 

Mariah peeled off the fur and patted it down swiftly, then worked to get out of some of her layers. Their order came and Mariah rubbed her hands together after removing her gloves. The quiche was hers but they shared the raspberry chocolate cake. The hot chocolate wasn’t shit size wise and she told Hernan she wanted some tea, if he decided to get himself another cup of coffee. 

They wound up spending an unexpected hour at the coffee shop, feeding each other pieces of cake, gazing at the snow or each other, and cuddling as they spoke sweet nothings to one another. They were the picture of harmony and adoration. When Mariah looked at Hernan, she saw the only person she could possibly want to be with, through gangster shit and legit shit, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death did them part. 

It was dark when they got back to the hotel. Mariah wondered if they should dine at the restaurant or just get room service, which honestly sounded real good after the scavenger hunt of a day they’d had. Hernan, bless his heart, was a man on a mission, busy messing with the Christmas tree, and not responding to her dinner prompts. So, Mariah made an executive decision and called the front desk to bring up room service, asking for their special. 

As soon as she hung up, the lights in the main section of the suite dimmed. 

“What the hell is this man doing,” she murmured, hearing him call out to her. 

“Mariah, look.” 

She went to the tree and found him sitting there looking very proud of himself, as if, indeed, he’d cut the damn tree from the woods himself, carried it inside and decorated it from start to finish. Hernan showed her the two ornaments he’d added, pointing out that one had an ‘H’ on it, while the other said ‘M’. She felt her insides turn warm at his enthusiasm. 

“I changed their star too,” he said, turning to point and gaze at the top of the tree. “This one is brighter, I think.” 

With her phone, Mariah approached him and said, “Hernan, baby, look here for me.” 

He turned, seeing she had her phone raised, and he smiled - genuinely and unreservedly, like he had everything in the world he could possibly want, and nothing would ever take it from him. It was an expression Mariah wished to preserve forever. As for the resulting picture of him, so unguarded in front of the Christmas tree, it would remain one of her favorites for years to come. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wonderfully sweet chapter was inspired by the following visuals:
> 
> 1\. Life Itself movie still, Oscar Isaac + ‘expecting’ Olivia Wilde: https://variety.com/2018/film/reviews/life-itself-review-1202933833/
> 
> 2\. Theo Rossi + Christmas tree: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/8d/33/ca/8d33ca1200d2b552a8ea6844ce371f7a.jpg


	10. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shades and Mariah find an unexpected buyer for the club as they get ready to welcome a child.

Shades spent much of his life perfecting the art of composure. He was a master at never giving anyone the impression that he was stressed. He learned it early on, hiding from his abusive father, pretending not to be scared when kids came at him in Harlem, waltzing in and out of police precincts knowing exactly how guilty and rotten he was. _You have to live with your head inside the lion’s mouth. Never let them see you sweat._ That’s the kind of shit he used to say and believe in. He had been in countless, high stress, life and death situations. Looking back now, those were cute, compared to the last month of Mariah’s pregnancy.

Hernan could barely go thirty minutes at Harlem’s Paradise without snapping at a goon over something trivial at best. He wondered briefly if this was his way of mentally unraveling, like Cornell once had. Ever since Tilda’s attack, the Paradise suffered decreased attendance and bad publicity - a deadly combination for business. Plus there was the fact that walking down the street, especially at night, became more dangerous than ever. Just the other night, some rando tried to jump him, teeth and claws bared. Harlem was turning into the Bronx Zoo faster than anyone could say ‘Brooklyn’. 

Then, there was Mariah, whose pregnancy had been blessedly smooth up to this point and still was in many ways, if it weren’t for the sporadic contractions. Ramani said it was the body’s way to prepare for labor when the time came. Mariah just bugged the fuck out, her temper growing very unpredictable when she was in pain, and she constantly bit off Hernan’s head. He was working as hard as he could to sort shit out with the house. Security and the nursery were finished but moving was a bitch, especially because Mariah flat out refused to take up residence at the new house while he got business done in Harlem.

Shades thought it would make it easier to coordinate with the movers. But Mariah wasn’t ready to take her maternity leave, something else that baffled and stressed him, considering she was hella pregnant. It may have been wiser to head upstate for the last few weeks to ensure delivery was smooth, but Mariah wanted to give birth at Bronx-Lebanon. So, they repeatedly went back and forth about how best to prepare for delivery, when they should stop working, and how they should arrange to get to the hospital.

The one thing that was going well was an arms deal Shades had been banking on with Hammer industries. This was hardware specifically geared to neutralize cells in the systems of those afflicted by BLACK MARIAH, or bitten by those poisoned, effectively reversing the process. Apparently the initial tests had gone successfully so the ‘cure’, magic bullets, was mass produced, which would make Shades a very rich man in a matter of days. Maybe Misty could use one of those bad boys to take out Tilda for them. Shades would certainly be grateful.

He sat frowning at his iMac, at the Paradise, still not having found a proper office, when a sound suspiciously close to a bitch slap caught his attention just outside the door. Shades sighed, wondering why the idiots working for him were smacking each other. A moment later, a hulking figure made its way inside and fixed Shades with a smug, vaguely sheepish expression.

The last time he and Carl crossed paths was at Pop’s Barbershop and threats had been made. True to his word, Shades didn’t set foot there ever since. So why was Luke Cage here all of a sudden?

“What are you doing here?” Shades asked, without much interest, in spite of his curiosity.

“I came to have a parlay with you,” Luke answered. He approached the desk slowly and Shades, not enjoying being spoken down at, stood to make his way around to the edge of the desk. “Mariah’s daughter, Tilda, is a problem. She has to go.”

Shades smirked and crossed his arms. “Temper, temper, Carl.”

“Ha-ha,” Luke replied sarcastically. “I’ve been working overtime trying to shut down these BLACK MARIAH joints and it’s only getting worse. Harlem is a war zone, man. It’s the Walking Dead out there.”

“Sounds like a problem for Harlem’s Hero,” Shades answered, shrugging. “Ask me if I care.”

Luke chuckled. “You know, you guys are real slick, always doing this. Diamondback, Bushmaster, Mariah, now Tilda. Y’all always leave it up to me to clean shit up.”

Shades started laughing. “I look like a fucking shrink to you?” he shot back. “Cause you should find someone else to talk about your feelin’s. We ain’t all bulletproof, Carl. You’re actually the only one who can clean this shit up. Besides, I thought you were here to parlay.”

“I am,” Luke said. “Tilda only wants one thing: to see you and Mariah dead, so she can have Harlem’s Paradise to herself.”

“She tell you that over coffee?”

“Stop playing, Shades.”

“Hernan,” Shades corrected. He smiled cheekily, announcing, “I’m rebranding.”

“Yeah, I heard about that. It’s why I’m here.” Luke sighed like he didn’t enjoy what he was about to say next, nor the calm way Shades appraised him. “Those guns you’re selling are not the answer. I want to buy Harlem’s Paradise from you and Mariah outright, title, deed, and real estate.”

Shades waited, to see if Carl would suddenly shout _Syke!_ When he didn’t, he felt the laughter rising back up and only barely managed to contain it.

“Oh my god, you’re serious,” Shades said, cracking up. He thumbed his mustache, reeling himself back in for a second. “You got 5 mill lying around, Carl?”

“We can’t let Tilda take over the club,” Luke insisted. “Think of last time. If she’s doing this now to Harlem, think of what she’ll be capable of from here. If you sell to me, I can keep Harlem safe and make sure she never sets foot here again. And yes, I got the money.”

Shades, still trying to fuck with Carl, answered by mimicking the big man.  
“Oh, you got the money, huh?” he said softly. “You been doing Nike commercials or porn?”

“Shades,” Luke growled. “I’m not playing with you.”

“Okay,” he grinned, raising his hands in surrender. “I mean, look, I ain’t making no judgements. Get paid, black man. Get yours.”

Luke waited until Shades was done cracking himself up and had wiped the mocking smirk off his face. Finally, Hernan cleared his throat and straightened up. 

“Why don't you just think about it, then?” Luke said. “Without me around, you and Mariah’s asses are in as much danger as anyone walking the streets at night. I can stop Tilda and clean up Harlem, from right here. That’s a lot more than you and your baby mama ever did for this place.”

Shades went right back to smirking, because now, he was just hella confused. He was going to tell Carl he couldn’t just sell, that he had to consult his woman, but after that little remark, Hernan had heard enough. He walked over to the open door and placed his hand on the knob.

With a dismissive smile, he said, “Thanks for stopping by, Carl.”

Shaking his head, Luke made his way out of the club, making sure to step over the passed out thug. The first thing Shades did when he got home that night was tell Mariah about his morning. She was just as surprised as he was that Luke actually had that kind of money. They weren’t even shook that he wanted to buy the club since they were trying to sell anyway.

“You didn’t tell him ‘yes’, yet, right?” she asked.

“Nah,” Shades said. “Mostly I laughed in his face. It’s perfect though. If he takes over, we as good as wash our hands clean of Tilda.”

“These things take time, Hernan,” Mariah cautioned. She was so incredibly pregnant, her lower belly poked out under most of her shirts. “We can sell to Cage if his money is clean, but for now, it’s better to let things between him and Tilda play out. Besides, I have a bad feeling…”

“About what?” he frowned and went to her, hands rising to her shoulders.

“I don’t know,” Mariah said. “I just have a bad feeling.”

They both looked worriedly at her protruding belly and spent the remainder of the evening brooding. As agreed, Shades held off on telling Cage they would actually accept his offer to buy the club, provided that the money was legit and nothing shady. They planned to invest that cash anyway, so it had to legally find its way into their account. About a week later, the gun sale was completed and weapons were distributed from one very legitimate seller and his connect, to law enforcement establishments. Shades looked at the numbers in his account as he geared up to move a portion to the joint one, and drew a deep breath. Never in all his life did he think he could become this wealthy, with the prospect of making more.

As fate would have it, shortly after this success, the tables slowly began to turn. It started with Mariah’s last day at work, something Shades waited weeks for. They were only about two weeks out to delivery so it was time for her to kick back until the big day. Shades almost stayed with her that day after dropping her off. The bad feeling she’d mentioned having a few days ago had seeped into the back of his mind and he too had developed an ill omen he couldn’t quite shake.

“I should stay,” he even said to her that morning. 

“You wanna party with community leaders?” Mariah teased him.

Hernan looked uneasy and asked her to call him as soon as her office was done with the little send off they had planned for her. Sugar was the one to call. The office was attacked by Tilda and her lot and some folks got injured. He got Mariah out before too much shit went sideways and was still driving around with her. Mariah said she didn’t want to go home.

Shades cut meetings short, walking out on clients, to make his way to them. The events at the community center were all over the news the next day. Multiple people were injured and rushed to the hospital with severe wounds from bites and scratches. Some of those responsible were arrested but many of them fled.

“I should have stayed,” Shades said, the moment he saw Mariah. Sugar had driven her midtown, to the piers by Hudson Yards. “Are you alright?”

“She’s sending a message,” Mariah replied, still wild eyed. “Tilda. She knows where to find me. She wants me to think she can get to me, from anywhere.”

Shades shushed her gently, endeavoring to calm her down. “Let’s go home,” he said.

“No,” Mariah replied.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“What if she goes there too? What if her animals run up the building ripping everyone up?”

Shades frowned and took a good look at Mariah. He would only understand much later on, after seeing the news, why she was scared. The victims of the community center were a warning, disfigured and sacrificed. Anyone who had come close to such a chaos would be rightfully disturbed.

“Let’s go home,” he repeated calmly. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise you that.”

He sent Sugar on an errand that evening, after Mariah had gone to sleep, to tell Luke Cage the offer was accepted with some terms. When the time was right, they could meet and settle this like businessmen. Sugar said he would deliver the message and Shades spent the night pacing the apartment. The club was closed that evening, due to open back up in a couple of nights. He checked their alarm system several times and set his eyes out the window into the street below.

The building they now called home must have been built while they were in jail. Mariah was the one to have found it, once she got back on her feet. She said she liked the fact that it had a doorman, that it was a treat for Harlem. Now Shades reflected that she may very well have liked the fact that it had security. Even Alex couldn’t come up without a call from downstairs, as evidenced the next morning when he turned up to check on Mariah.

Shades answered the door and stared him down. “You look like shit,” he said. “You should be in the hospital.”

“Ah, I wanted to check on Ms Dillard, make sure she’s okay.”

At that, Shades tilted his head skeptically. “Why?” he purred. “Who’s asking?”

While Alex opened his mouth and stammered, Mariah crossed the living room and caught sight of the little exchange. She huffed wearily.

“Let him in, Hernan.”

Shades stared down the bright eyed man for another few long moments before finally stepping aside. He stuck close to Alex. Ever since Misty’s remark, the assistant had raised his suspicions. It was all Shades could do not to slowly torture Alex into telling him why he was babbling.

“I’m fine, Alex,” Mariah said. “It’s nice of you to come but there was no need.”

“Actually, there is another reason I am here.” Alex moved in to the kitchen, sitting uneasily down at the table. Shades, bearing his gun in the band of his sweatpants, stood stiffly to one side, closer to Mariah. “I need to come clean about something.”

Shades smirked. “Save your breath. We know.”

Sweat broke onto Alex’s brow and nervously, he turned to appraise Hernan. “K-Know what?”

“Ain’t the question,” Shades answered.

“Don’t scare him, Hernan,” Mariah scolded. “Alex, we know you been talking to the cops. I don’t know why they would be so stupid as to go to you but nothing surprises me nowadays.”

Alex began to profusely apologize, saying he had told the cops he would not play ball no matter what. Thus, they threatened to put him away for some involvements in Mariah’s former crimes, saying if he didn’t spy for them, he would serve a sentence.

“They think you’re still more involved in Harlem’s Paradise and using the community center as cover. I told them time again, nothing is going on. Shades has gone legit and you’re focused on Harlem.”

Shades was in no humor to be nice like Mariah. He advanced, pulled out his gun, and assumed a thuggish stance. “You told them about Paris.”

“By accident,” Alex gulped, staring at the gun. “I swear. Misty asked if Mariah would be handing out turkeys or kissing babies during the holidays. I said she’d be too busy going on vacation.”

“Why are you saying all this now?” Mariah asked. “What the hell do they want, other than lock us back up?”

Alex frowned quietly for a long time. Losing his patience, Shades raised his gun and pointed it.

“Because,” Alex finally said. “They’re doing their best to let Tilda win.”

Both Shades and Mariah frowned at this. Alex said that Mariah had escaped by the time this happened but, apparently, the NYPD had taken its sweet time getting to the community center after yesterday’s attack. If it weren’t for the number of people injured, the event might not have even made it on television. Suddenly, Shades understood why he was arrested the other night at the club, why the detectives seemed to have grown even more stupid than in the past.

“They are trying everything in their power not to intervene where you are involved,” Alex said. “It took me a while to work it out but, I see now what their play is. There is something else.”

“What?” Shades asked, lowering his gun. Mariah had gone dead silent.

“They think you know who is behind the bail out from a few years ago. They believe, if left to defend yourselves from what’s happening in Harlem, your Benefactor will resurface.”

Later, when Alex left, Shades massaged his knuckles and mulled over the young man’s words. He wasn't shook that the NYPD was letting them to fend for themselves but their motives threw him off. Shades had no idea who the Benefactor was and frankly, he hoped not to find out. He always felt uneasy about favors he could not easily payback and his and Mariah’s release from jail was the biggest one yet.

He wondered about the guns. Whether they were used or not made little difference to him. His money was in their account and he was making moves to sell to other departments. Maybe the cops would do what they could to look after anyone in Harlem except for Shades and Mariah. It was a queer feeling, being outcast in such a manner. While Mariah curled her head up on his lap, Shades stroked her hair, reflecting that they only had each other. They had no true friends, only people who worked for them, wanted things from them, or hated them.

He sighed. This wasn’t a life he wanted to raise a child in. Thank God they were moving, honestly. Shades was just about sick of the bullshit. Mariah was less than a week away from the expected delivery date. She spent most of her days at home, worriedly watching Shades anytime he said he was going anywhere, questioning what time he would be back, who was going with him. He’d never seen her so nervous in her life, though he had seen her plenty scared and distressed. Perhaps because Tilda was blood, unlike Bushmaster and Diamondback, it affected her more deeply.

One night, after trying and failing to convince Mariah to come out with him (she neither wanted to leave the house, or see him to go that night), he made his way over to tie up some loose ends. Shades didn’t expect it to take very long at all. There was just a cash transaction to sign off on, his last gangster deal, after which he would be out of that game and legitimate all the way.

The club was poppin’ by the time he arrived and did what he had to do. VIP and the office were locked up for a final time and, about an hour after he arrived, Shades was done. Mariah would be happy to see him come back so early, he was sure of that. He made his way through the thick crowd of dancing and partying when all at once, all sound cut off and the power went out. Shades removed his ray bans, seeing just about everyone in the club switch on their iPhone flashlight to better see. Nobody knew what the hell was going on.

Shades went outside and saw the streetlights and traffic lights were all out. As far as the eye could see, Harlem was pitch black. Others spilled outside and multiple phones went off, as people said it was a power outage.

_Widespread._

_All of Harlem._

_All the way to Dyckman._

Shades couldn’t help but overhear the chatter and he quickly made his way to his car, almost missing the sound of his phone going off in his coat. Mariah was calling, he thought surely about the power outage.

“Hey, I’m coming home right now,” he answered swiftly.

“Hernan,” she said worriedly. “They’re here. They’re out on the street.”

“What? Who’s there?”

Through the phone, Shades heard a loud crash. Mariah cried out. In spite of the freezing temperatures, Shades broke into a cold sweat.

“Mariah? Mariah!”

The line clicked off and Shades immediately called her back, racing to his Benz. Mariah’s phone rang and rang but she never answered. He switched on the car and sped away, still trying to reach her. It should only take him 15 minutes to get home, 10, if he was reckless. Heart pounding, Shades realized with alarm that with no streetlights working, driving in New York was a shit show. He should not have been speeding but all he could think about was how scared Mariah sounded, how she said, ‘they’re here.’

Suddenly, Shades crashed into something. Someone walked right into the street and he hit them just as he got the breaks. The car screeched, swerved, and pummeled into an SUV. Alarms blared and his airbag exploded, pushing into him. Everything became blurry and sounded distant. Shades came to after what seemed like way too long, though it had only been a few minutes.

He fought with his seatbelt and finally cut himself free. His hands and part of his face felt warm but Shades didn’t know it was from blood. The back of his neck was sore from the whiplash.

“Hey man, you aight?” a voice asked him, but Shades ignored it. 

On the street, the body he had crashed against before the SUV was slowly rising. It turned its head toward the sky and howled. Shades looked up and saw the glare of the full moon. In answer, a thousand other howls from near and far chillingly filled the streets and people looked around worriedly. Tonight, the beasts were out, all of them, and with the power outage, darkness would be their cover.

Shades left his broken Benz behind and started half jogging home. His sides were feeling terrible, and he wondered if his ribs had gotten bruised again or cracked. The man didn’t dwell long on it. The further he went the more people he saw panicked, running in various directions. It was the night at the club all over again except, Harlem was under attack. 

Hernan made for shortcuts, the alley, trying to rush home. In all honesty he was scared shitless of which state he would find Mariah in. He couldn’t think about it. If anything happened to her he’d never forgive himself. He should have just stayed in. God, why did he have to go to the club tonight? That shit could have waited.

Without warning, some figures running through the alley came up to him and attacked. This wasn’t his first rodeo with the feral freaks. Shades didn’t hesitate, shooting them point blank. His gun was loaded with the new shit. If what Hammer scientists said was true, these bullets would do more good than harm. Shades continued his frantic run, his limbs screaming for a break.

At last, he came upon their building. The power was out, which was discouraging enough, and when Shades looked, the concierge was slumped over his desk, his throat open and his eyes gouged out. So they didn’t even bother infecting now… they went right for the kill.

_Mariah…_

Shades willed his limbs to move and go for the stairs. They lived on the 12th floor, which was not bad with an elevator. By the time he made it all the way there, Shades had lost count of the number of bodies strewn about. The amount of blood was sickening. This was a war zone, just like Cage said. 

His apartment door was broken down. He swallowed thick, lungs burning for air more than they ever did in his most intense workouts, and his body aching beyond recognition. There was a cold draft running through the moonlit apartment and the place was a mess, as if a tornado had literally come through.

“Mariah,” he called out, scared he would get no answer.

Shades felt a tightness in his chest when he saw the blood tracked all over his floors. He followed it to the bedroom, avoiding prone forms of beaten up werewolves along the way. His mouth ran drier than it was and his throat grew heavy with a lump. There was blood all over the room, going into the bathroom.

“Oh, God…” he choked out softly. The corners of his eyes stung and at last, he entered the bathroom.

Mariah was in the bathtub, with a rifle tucked against her chest. The weapon raised and cocked toward him as soon as she saw him. Relief washed all over Shades when their eyes met.

“Hernan.” Mariah immediately began sobbing and Shades went to hold her. 

“It’s okay,” he said, wiping his face, “I’m here.”

He took the rifle from her and tucked it to one side. It was the only weapon they kept in the house, aside from his handgun. He reached for Mariah and gently scooped her out of the tub.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, never wanting to let her go. Mariah’s clothes were drenched and at first, Hernan thought it was sweat, because she couldn’t have possibly bathed with all her clothes on, nor pissed herself in fright, surely…

“My water broke,” Mariah said.

Shades’s heart sank. He looked at her and a roaring filled his ears, as his heart hammered in his chest. 

“Luke… he beat those animals up and then he left.” Mariah was shaking very badly and her skin was cold and clammy. Hernan quickly took her back to the bedroom and helped change her, wrapping her in as many layers as he could, coat, scarves, socks and gloves.

“We gotta move,” he said.

“The power is out,” Mariah answered, sounding delirious. Suddenly, she screamed, and Hernan knew damn well that was a contraction.

“I gotta get you to a hospital,” he said, rushing to load his gun back up. He would have taken the rifle but it was too cumbersome. “Come on.”

Shades tried to help Mariah to her feet and, when another contraction spasmed painfully through her, he knew she was in no condition to walk.

“I need you to put your arms around me,” he said clearly, scooping her up bride style. “Breathe deeply and start counting.”

“What?” Mariah snapped.

“Count until the next contraction,” he said, trying to keep her distracted.

Shades slowly made his way down the building and the smell of the blood of victims around sickened him in a way it hadn’t in a long time. Mariah counted and then lost count, considering her contractions to be somewhat close together. What the hell had those childbirth class teachers said? The closer together they were the closer the baby was, or some shit? He honestly couldn’t remember in the moment. But he knew he had to get Mariah to a hospital as fast as possible. 

There was one in Harlem - Shades decided their best bet with the power outage was to walk over there. Until they arrived and he realized, a hospital couldn’t function in a power outage. It was a madhouse and there were far too many injured patients crammed around everywhere for one to even get close.

“Hernan, I can’t…” Mariah cried against him.

He frowned, looking down at her, and carried her away. His brow glistened with sweat and as for his limbs, Shades thought they might give out on him at any moment. Stalking away from the chaos, he deposited Mariah on a park bench and pulled out his phone. 

“The outage is from Harlem to Dyckman,” he told Mariah. “That’s so far uptown our best chance is gonna have to be lower on the island or Bronx Lebanon.”

“Too far,” Mariah groaned, huffing laboriously through the pain.

“We don’t have a choice.” Shades looked at her. For the first time, he felt envious of Luke Cage and the rest of the super powered freaks, because right now the only thing he wished was for the ability to teleport to another borough and get his woman into the maternity ward of a functioning hospital.

“Come on.” Shades, after consulting his map, scooped Mariah back up and started heading northeast. They were going to the Bronx from Harlem, no matter what it took. He tried his hardest to console Mariah and talk her through her pain but it became increasingly difficult. When they ambled close to the Apollo, heading toward Malcom X Boulevard, Shades saw the chaos in the streets and realized the police had closed off the roads. 

Shades went past 125th and walked north toward Third Ave Bridge. After about thirty minutes, they crossed into the Bronx. There was power here thankfully. Shades checked on Mariah to see how she was doing and found her delirious with pain, talking nonsense.

“Hang in there, mama,” he murmured, checking his phone to get an Uber to the hospital. He should have just called an ambulance from here, since it would have been chaos in Harlem. Just as he requested the ride, his phone died.

“Shit!” Shades nearly threw it into the Harlem River.

He walked toward 138th street, thinking maybe he could catch the 4 train up to the hospital. But given the big crowd outside and the disgruntled MTA agents, the subway was probably affected by the power outages. Hernan continued walking and carrying Mariah. At the very least there were no werewolves in the Bronx and he didn’t have to look over his shoulder as often.

The man kept hoping he’d see at least one taxi he could hail but, no go. After speaking senselessly and groaning deeply with each contraction, Mariah passed out. It was shortly after they crossed Yankee stadium.

“No, no, no…” Shades murmured, assessing her temperature with his cheek. In spite of all the layers and how closely he held her, she was frigid. “Just hold on for me,” he repeatedly said to her, scared to death he was going to lose everything, after coming so fucking close.

For once in his life, he did everything right. Shades didn’t kill anyone this time around. The best he’d done was injure when he was being attacked. He looked after Mariah with only the best intentions at heart, from the moment she got out of jail after him. She was loitering by a homeless shelter when he first saw her again. They met a few times after that, she, unwilling to relocate with him to ‘stay on his auntie’s couch’. Shades held down honest work during those months. He didn’t have shit and considering his record, the best he could do was deliver food with any company willing to hire him. He saved up and even asked his aunt for a loan, after he found one shabby ass - but clean - room above a restaurant.

Though he almost had to twist Mariah’s arm into agreeing, especially after she nearly vanished from the shelter on her own quest to collect metal cans for cash, they moved in together. They shared that room like immigrants struggling to make it. Shades worked his ass off, still delivering, and washing dishes at the restaurant, so she could be comfortable. He bought her stuff she needed like new clothes and random things like the body wash she liked. They ate food from the places he worked at, sometimes leftovers shared on the fire escape at dawn when he got back from work.

They hashed things out and came clean with each other. That was when he asked her, almost begged her, to start over. Put the shit behind and build something stronger. He wanted to be with this woman and was willing to do the right thing, to do everything, to be with her. She started to work, then her assets were unfrozen. Ben Donovan came back in the picture. Their records were expunged and soon, they were moving into the apartment building with the dead concierge.

They did it right this time, selling the painting, running the club, hustling only toward going legit. This baby was meant to be a symbol for a better future, everything they could possibly want, their second chance at life. Karma could not take that from Hernan, not after everything he did to repent.

“Stay with me,” he whispered to Mariah’s prone form in his arms. “Don’t leave me now. If you go, I can’t stay either. I lived without Che but I can’t live without you. I can’t.”

Hernan felt sick with worry and he thought at any moment he would stagger, double over and vomit. There was a BP gas station just off of Jerome Ave. Nauseous, Shades walked toward it, trying to see if he could find something to give Mariah to drink. It might rouse her until they reached the hospital as they were close now.

There was a limousine parked at the gas station, a rare sight for the Bronx, and the driver was filling up the tank while the windows were drawn up. Shades staggered into the gas station shop and went to the waters, hastily ripping one open and bringing it to Mariah’s lips. The station worker protested until he saw that the woman was unconscious.

“I’ll pay for it,” Shades said warily, keeping her raised against his knee. “I just need her to wake up.”

“She needs a hospital, man,” the employee said. “No charge.”

At that moment, the limo driver entered the gas station shop and fixed Shades with a long, quiet look. Mariah stirred but only just, groaning painfully a few seconds later.

“Hang in there, baby,” Shades whispered to her, back in his own world now, trying to warm her up and revive her.

“Sir,” said the chauffeur to Shades, “my boss sent me here for you. Said you look like you could use a ride.”

It took a while for Shades to realize he was being addressed. He stared at the limo driver, a kindly Dominican looking fellow, and thought he might break down.

“Bronx Lebanon hospital,” Shades immediately said. “Her water broke, she needs to deliver—“ He choked around his words, wild eyed and sweaty, his body numb from the distance and labor and the fears. Shades rose with Mariah in his arms and gazed at the driver as if the man was his saving grace.

“Come with me, sir.”

It turned out to be for real. The ‘boss’ was not a face Shades had ever seen before, and kept mostly to the shadows of the limousine. Shades would remember this moment and this man for the rest of his life. He wanted to thank him but all he could do was tuck Mariah close and try to warm her up. He kept talking to her, hoping she’d say something back, but the reality was that Mariah looked weakened and paler than she was supposed to.

“She looks weak,” the car owner finally said, without introductions. “Do you think she’ll make it?”

Shades gulped. “She has to,” he answered at length. “Mariah’s a fighter.” But Shades had a hard time believing his own words.

“Hope,” said the man abstractly. “It’s the only thing that keeps up going during hard times. If you keep hope, she will make it.”

Shades said nothing in response. They were at the hospital in less than 10 minutes and the driver pulled open the door and was courteous enough to even fetch emergency staff while Shades got out and drew Mariah out after him.

“Remember my words, Mr. Alvarez,” the strange owner said in his unnerving baritone.

Shades felt his spine prickle at the use of his name. He didn’t know this man and yet… For a fleeting second, he had a look at the stern face, seeing it belonged to a large, powerful looking man. He was bald as shit and his dark eyes fixed Shades with a long look. Again, he said, “Keep hope.”

Then there was a stretcher and nurses rushing to get Mariah inside, speaking hospital terminology Shades felt like he should be understanding. He ran after them and answered so many questions about Mariah and her water breaking and Dr. Ramani, that by the time they rushed her to the delivery room, Shades felt like he had lost the ability to speak. Due to the emergency nature of the situation, Shades was relegated to a waiting area.

He sat down and at long last, the rush of adrenaline left him to be replaced with fear of the worst possible degree. Mariah hadn’t been looking good at all. Shades had no idea what would happen. He pulled off his coat, his jacket and loosened his tie, and still, he was too warm and uncomfortable. His head was pounding and he was still a bit nauseous, on top of feeling battered as all hell from crashing his Benz. When he leaned back and didn’t feel the pressure of his gun tightening behind him, Shades realize it must have fallen out somewhere. The limo perhaps?

And there was that strange man who knew his name and repeatedly spoke about hope. Shades gulped and wondered what all that meant. In truth, he was completely out of his depth, jumping anytime he saw a staff member. Once, a nurse came to tell him the doctors were working with Mariah. There were no further details. For all he knew, she could undergo surgery, a c-section, whatever. It didn’t occur to him that such procedures required forms to be signed by someone like him, just in case anything went wrong.

Nothing at all occurred to him except for the fact that this night at the hospital was it for him. It was the moment of truth. The way things went tonight would determine the direction of the rest of his life. Shades could have all the money in the world but, if he didn’t have Mariah at his side and, God forbid, if they didn’t have a child, he would be little more than a waste of space.

After a long and dark night of the soul in the hospital waiting room, a doctor finally came to Shades. It was just past 8 in the morning and Hernan was feeling something between numbness and utter emotional exhaustion. He got to his feet upon realizing the man in scrubs and pulled down mask was coming for him.

Shades stood solemn, not saying a word. He didn’t dare ask that fatal question, _how is she_? He figured if he didn’t ask, the answer would hurt him less if it was bad. The doctor’s face was hard to read and Shades’ mouth was so dry, a desert might have spawned within.

“Congratulations, Mr. Alvarez,” the doctor said. “You have a healthy, beautiful baby girl.”

It took a second for Shades to fully process those words, to see the smile that was now on the doctor’s face in the bright morning light. The doctor told him some details about the baby’s weight and height and Shades took a step back, as if he had been surprised by a sudden gust of wind.

“And Mariah?” he croaked. “H-How is she?”

“Ms Dillard is resting now,” the doctor replied. “She has been through a tough labor with some complications but she powered through and we were able to deliver your child safely.”

Mariah was alive. Their child was alive. They had a daughter, a little baby girl. Hernan didn’t listen as the doctor continued speaking. He was in shock. Everything he had feared, everything he had gone through in all his life, all the blood and crimes and all the pain and sorrow, slowly began to melt away like an icicle in the sun. He tried to thank the doctor but found that no words came out, so he took a few more steps back and laced his fingers behind the back of his head.

“Mr. Alvarez?” the doctor said.

“Sorry, I need a second.”

Hernan walked away from the man, down the corridor, took one right and went straight into the men’s room. He shut the door behind him and, with his back pressed to it, slowly slid down to the floor. That’s when the dam burst. Hernan broke down thoroughly as he took his head in his hands, crying with relief and with gratitude. He hadn’t wept this hard in a long time. Not even when Che died by his hand, in spite of how deeply that ruined him; certainly he hadn’t let this loose since he was a little kid.

A few minutes later, Hernan rose and pulled himself together. He went to the sink to wash his hands, soaking his face with brisk, cold water. He sniffled, dried up, took a long look at his reflection and sighed. At last, he allowed himself to experience just how happy he was that Mariah was okay, that they were parents. It was real now. It happened.

He emerged from the bathroom and a nurse eventually caught up with him to give him an update on Mariah.

“When can I see her?” he asked eagerly.

“You can see your wife very soon, sir, and as for your daughter, you can see her right away.”

Hernan smiled at the nurse, a short, Vietnamese looking chick who was likely fresh out of school. He didn’t have the heart to correct her when she called Mariah his wife. The nurse led him over to the baby ward. There were a bunch of little figures all lined up in their own little glass case cribs and though he wasn’t allowed inside, the nurse told him which one was his.

She was sleeping peacefully, her little hands curled into fists that occasionally relaxed and stretched. Her smooth hair was very dark, she had a lot of it already, and everything about her was absolutely perfect. Hernan could barely take his eyes off her, his daughter with Mariah. She was here because they did it right this time. He protected her mother as much as he could and most importantly, he kept hope.

“Hope,” Hernan smiled, gazing at his child.

Mariah looked years older and utterly drained by the time he finally got to see her. Hernan kissed her face, kissed her all over, and sat close to her. The doctor had said her vitals were good, she just needed to rest.

“You did it,” he said softly, her hand in his. “I’m so proud of you.”

“We did it, Hernan,” Mariah corrected tiredly. Her eyes had lit up when she saw him in spite of how tired she was. “Did you see her yet?”

“I did,” he grinned fondly. “Just from afar.”

“She looks like her daddy,” Mariah drawled. 

Hernan laughed and said a few hours old was way too early to tell something like that. But Mariah insisted on her theory.

“She got your light skin,” she said, “out here looking more Latina than Afro.”

He replied that they should give it a couple of years before making any calls. He’d only seen her face but he thought she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on, just like Mariah. They talked about the previous night and that intense journey. Mariah admitted to thinking she was going to die, that if it weren’t for Luke, she didn’t know what would happen to her. In turn, Hernan mentioned the strange limousine at the gas station, their saving grace, and Mariah said maybe there was something out there looking out for them.

“Oh, shit, Hernan,” Mariah said, squeezing his hand. “We didn’t think of names.”

“Shit, you’re right.” He looked down and frowned. It was just like them not to come up with names. They didn’t have that kind of time, trying to build their empire and steer clear of super menaces. The Paris trip was definitely weird for them and even now, Hernan didn’t know how it managed to go so well.

“You want her to be a Stokes?” he asked tentatively.

“God, no.” Mariah shuddered. “She should have your last name. Both of them.”

Hernan shook his head. “Salazar is my father’s last name. I don’t want to pass down his legacy.”

Mariah looked startled at that, like she didn’t know he’d been thinking that at all.

“Just Alvarez then?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Okay, well, still need a first name. Mama Mabel named Tilda but honestly it was for the best. I’m shit at coming up with names.”

Hernan felt like he wasn’t any better either. Mariah, after seeing how he struggled silently, asked him if he wanted to name their girl after his mama.

“Maybe she can have a nice little Puerto Rican name that rolls off the tongue and means something too,” she said.

That’s when it came to him. He looked at Mariah and took both her hands in his. 

“Last night,” he began, “when that random ass dude picked us up, all I could think about was how, no matter what happened at the hospital, I would never forget him. He kept saying to keep ‘hope’. Even called me by name and repeated it when we arrived.”

Mariah looked like she was trying to follow this intense and important train of thought. Finally, she said wearily, “So you wanna name the baby Hope?”

Hernan shook his head and grinned widely. “No,” he replied. “Esperanza.”

Soon, Mariah returned his smile as she tried the name on her tongue.

“That’s really nice,” she hummed, “sounds hella Spanish too. Esperanza Alvarez.”

It had a wonderful ring to it. They decided to test it out when the baby was finally brought to them, for her first feeding with her mama. Shades stood around in the remaining parts of his suit and watched nervously, his palms sweating with joy and apprehension, while Mariah fed the baby.

“Hello, sweetie,” she kept cooing. “Look at your pretty eyes.”

When the baby was finally fed and no longer crying, the nurse returned and asked the father if he wanted to hold her. Hernan had been waiting nine months for this.

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely and then cleared his throat. “Yes.”

He saw the smirk Mariah shot him and he moved over to sit down. The nurse took the baby and instructed Hernan on how to hold her correctly, to support her head and her neck. He said he understood and at long last, the slow exchange was made.

She must have weighed something like 6 to seven pounds, a tiny bundle carefully wrapped in hospital blankets. From the moment her brown eyes fell on Hernan, he felt as though it was his heart that he held, outside of his body, in his arms. Never in his life had he experienced something like this, and there was a purity to the intense rush of warmth and love he felt that was like being washed of all sins. His daughter was an angel, perfect in every way, and he knew from that moment he was going to love her more than anything.

“Hola, Esperanza,” Hernan said.

Unexpectedly, the baby looked up at him at the sound of his voice and smiled. The sight was alike to seeing God, or Paradise. It was enough to dampen Hernan’s eyes. He raised a thumb and wiped his lashes dry.

“Oh, baby,” Mariah sighed as she looked at him.

Moved, Hernan looked up, smiled, and said to her, “She smiled at me. When I said her name, she smiled.”

And thus, over this long and arduous journey, naming their daughter, the heiress to their throne, became the easiest decision made by Shades and Mariah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’d like to believe the man in the limousine is the elusive Benefactor. I imagine him to physically resemble Wilson Fisk.
> 
> This is the final chapter of the fic, with an epilogue to come, tying up any loose ends re: Tilda vs. Luke, as well as a glimpse into parenthood for Mariah and Shades. I am thrilled with how it turned out and proud to have seen this work (started on a whim last February) to the end.
> 
> This chapter is partly inspired by that time my phone died during a power outage in the city and it took me over 2 hours to get uptown lol.


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into Mariah and Hernan raising their daughter, Esperanza, with a very happy ending for everyone.
> 
> This is the visual board for this fic:  
https://pin.it/ylqwpi3fsejsal

About 13 months after she delivered, Mariah finally began to feel like she was making moves. Her image in Harlem, after everything Tilda put her through, was finally starting to glow. New office, better salary, and more influence were just some of the things going right. She was back on the city council (though not councilwoman yet) and raking up thousands of dollars for her initiatives. When she reflected on the past few months, she found it was the most unlikely factors that went into play to see her back where she wanted to be.

Tilda’s return, once deemed a curse of the worst degree, was now considered a blessing. After the massacres across Harlem, including the damage to the building Mariah and Hernan lived in, the NYPD finally stepped in. Tilda and her small army faced off with Luke Cage. In the end, Cage prevailed and Tilda was put away - for good, Mariah hoped. While all this was happening, Mariah and Hernan quietly made their way upstate with their newborn.

The Benz needed to be taken for repairs, so Hernan switched keys with Sugar, set up a car seat in the Escalade, and took his family home. Given the hard labor of delivering her daughter, Mariah passed on getting her tubes tied. They had everything at the new house, except for the things left behind at the old place. So, that same day, Hernan went on a massive shopping spree, getting them some clothes, shoes, and groceries. Nobody heard from them for some time; nobody knew where they were and Mariah liked it that way.

Naturally, the first few weeks with the baby were tough for both of them. Mariah remembered when Cornell was a baby and the way he used to holler every 3-4 hours to be fed, changed, burped, or soothed to sleep. Esperanza was no different as she adjusted to new life. Mariah tag teamed with Hernan and they took turns looking after the baby. Though, if she were to be entirely honest, Hernan’s energy level and focus, when it came to nurturing Esperanza, was absolutely commendable.

Once she began to take bottles of Mariah’s pumped milk, ten times out of nine, Hernan was the one to get up in the middle of the night to feed the baby. Sometimes Mariah was too tired to even protest when he told her to go back to sleep. That’s how he wound up taking the night shift and she was on day, while he caught up on some rest. Then, they got a night nanny like Mariah wanted, but by then, they had the hang of it.

Hernan sold Harlem’s Paradise to Luke, as agreed, and invested their money to some major results later. They were financially flush and could remain so for a long time if either one of them decided to stop working, unlikely as that was. He went back to work before she did, after getting his Benz fixed up, and came home at the same time every night. He got a new office midtown and soon, Harlem’s Paradise was only associated with him and Mariah in passing. When Mariah decided to speak out on the insensitive way the police handled Tilda when it came to her, she played the narrative to her advantage.

Demonizing the police worked wonders for Mariah and in a way, she had Tilda to thank for her new rise to power. Plus, being a new mother put her in the spotlight in different ways and she became far more relatable. It was funny how short certain people’s memories could be and Mariah thought that was just as well. Things were finally the way they were supposed to be.

One afternoon, toward the end of her day, Mariah received a text from their night nanny turned full time (during the day, at least, when she and Hernan worked). Mariah always read the nanny’s messages and picked up her calls, just in case there was an emergency. But sometimes the nanny merely sent over cute photos or videos to brighten Mariah’s days. 

A quick scan showed her a video was attached. Mariah cast her eyes beyond her office door and then plugged in her headphones. Esperanza was so much bigger now at 13 months, a sturdy little thing with chubby cheeks and loads of energy. They celebrated her first birthday at home upstate and the only people invited were a couple of neighbors they were friendly with, their kids, and the nanny. It was a small but intimate affair in their huge house and a month later, Mariah still caught herself reflecting fondly on the pictures from that day, as well as any picture taken before.

Esperanza was Hernan’s twin, resembling her father so much, sometimes Mariah doubted she carried her for nine months. She was a sunny little girl with the biggest dark brown eyes and her father’s sharp, cheeky smile. She had Hernan’s chin, too, and a cute, curly afro. Mariah never knew a happier baby and even when she fussed, she was hardly inconsolable. 

She pressed play on the video and started smiling. The text before read, ‘Ranza’s first words’. They were in the playspace downstairs, surrounded by her toy giraffes and other animals. Mariah expected something random like any of the crazy things her baby babbled, or maybe the name of those animals but, to her surprise, Esperanza clearly and repeatedly said, “Papi.”

The nanny laughed in the video and showed Esperanza a nearby picture of Hernan holding her as a baby. “Papi,” the girl said, smiling and well aware of what she was saying. Mariah nearly teared up. She didn’t realize the video stopped and for a moment, she felt guilty to have missed her daughter’s first words. Quickly pulling herself together, she texted the nanny back.

_Send this to Hernan._

That little clip would make him happy. He was always sweet and attentive to their daughter. Mariah thought she knew every side to Hernan but she soon learned there was far more to him. He had changed over the last few months, shedding his old self to reveal a remarkably patient man (more than he’d previously been). Fatherhood looked good on him, in her opinion, as he very quickly became adept at not only looking after their child, but doting on her as well. 

There were unexpected surprises to his parenting as well. Mariah used to think he spoke softly to Esperanza because it was his way of reconciling a shitty upbringing with his chance at proving he could be a better father. And then she realized, he wasn’t speaking that softly. She just couldn’t understand him!

“I ain’t know you speak Spanish,” she remarked to him at last, maybe when Esperanza was still about a month or so old. “What you gangsters talking about?”

“The usual,” Hernan answered matter of factly. “Is she hungry or is she sleepy? Does she need a change or want a bath? Should we read a book and try to sleep?”

He bought books in Spanish and read them to their baby. Mariah had initially not looked through the literal pile of neatly organized stuff that found its way into the nursery until that day. She couldn’t understand a word of it, question and exclamation marks upside down and shit. And so, it was hardly a surprise that their daughter’s first word was in Spanish.

_Way ahead of you_, the nanny texted back.

Mariah smiled and got back to work. She got home that night a little earlier than usual. Sugar, being the only one who knew where they lived, and bound to secrecy (he was very loyal), dropped her off and Mariah asked him if he wanted to stay for dinner or head back to the city. He said it was still early so he’d head back now.

“Alright,” she said, “you have a good night, big man.”

She made her way inside their large home and called out a quick greeting. The nanny responded to signal that they were in the kitchen and before Mariah could even get there, she heard Esperanza’s little feet pitter-patter their way toward her. She had a big smile on her face and only a couple of teeth, running clumsily into Mariah’s skirts to hug her mama.

“Hi sweetheart, my baby girl,” Mariah said, picking her up and kissing her. “You said your first words today?”

In response Esperanza gurgled and babbled some nonsense. Or maybe she was speaking Spanish. It’s not like Mariah could tell the difference.

“You can say Papi but you can’t say Mommy yet? Your daddy’s gonna be so proud.” Mariah traveled deeper into the kitchen, getting a quick summary of the day from the nanny before telling her she could take off for the day.

“You sure? Your meals are prepped but I can wait a bit longer,” the nanny replied.

“That’s alright darling, Hernan will be here any minute,” Mariah replied. “I got it from here. You go ahead and I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks for all your hard work.”

On a typical day, Mariah carried her daughter upstairs, tucked her in the master bedroom’s playpen, and got quickly to changing out of her work clothes, making baby talk all the while. But today, as soon as she saw the nanny out, Hernan made his way inside from the garage and called out to announce himself. Though he still entered from the side (not back) of their house given the garage position, he’d stopped sneaking around.

“Oop,” she told Esperanza, locking up. “Look who’s here.”

“Hey mama,” Hernan said, meeting them halfway back in the kitchen.

Mariah smiled softly at him. “Hi baby.”

They kissed, or at least tried to, considering how excited their baby got after seeing her dad. Mariah relented with a huff and handed Esperanza over to Hernan.

“You see that video Margo sent?” Mariah asked him, gleaning the answer from the way he beamed at Esperanza. She reached for his waist and patted it a few times.

“I did. Hola, mija,” he said, kissing the baby’s dimpled cheek. They had no idea where she got those dimples from and neither of them could get over how cute it was.

Esperanza gurgled a string of words, half of which definitely included repeatedly uttering Papi, and Hernan answered her in Spanish. Mariah took a moment to observe them, her two little identical Ricans, and she felt a rush of love fill her breast.

“You guys talking shit?” she smirked.

Hernan asked her to watch her language and Mariah rolled her eyes as they all made their way upstairs to change. They would later come down for dinner together, always a happy affair. It was the best part of Mariah’s day, if she was being honest. Who knew domesticating Hernan and herself like this could feel so damn good? She wouldn’t give it up for the world.

——————————————

Hernan did a lot of shit he was proud of, no doubt about that. Yet his greatest accomplishment was his happy 2 year old who, every Saturday morning, without fail, rose first, ran from her room to the master bedroom, and threw herself between her parents to shake him awake. Hernan started calling her his little alarm clock, along with the multiple other nicknames he had for her.

_Mija._

_Rani._

_Mi amor._

_Ranza_.

Mariah joked one time that he was going to confuse the child, give her some kinda personality problem. But Esperanza wasn’t confused. She was bright, just like her mama, pulling at his eyelids after learning that was the best way to rouse him.

“Wake up, Papi,” she said in Spanish.

Hernan groaned and tackled her against him, trying to steal a few more minutes. It must have been like 7 o’clock but, Esperanza didn’t care. There was no daycare today so she started talking in rapid Spanish and spun him a tall tale about some dream she had.

“Okay. I’m up.” He pulled himself out of bed and stretched, making his way to the bathroom closer to her room. She was potty training, which was a whole thing in itself, and doing pretty good all things considered. When she told him through the door she was done, they cleaned up and brushed their teeth together, before making their way downstairs. 

Family photos lined the walls and decorated the home, giving it warmth. There were impossibly cute baby pictures of Ranza, pictures with Mariah, Hernan and Esperanza, the three of them. Birthdays and other milestones celebrated were displayed. Mariah’s events, publicity, and other things that found Hernan and their daughter present and photographed, were framed in certain nooks if they captured a particularly lovely side of them. There were the pictures taken in France, the pregnancy, and Esperanza’s first weeks alive. Happy Family. It was the vibe their home gave.

Esperanza always had a lot to talk about, especially in the morning. While she talked her head off and he made sounds of acknowledgement, Hernan reflected that he was just happy she learned Spanish so easily. They had an interesting conversation about stuffed animals and bubbles as he sorted out breakfast for her. Hernan started her off with a cup of fruit she could nibble while he worked on the good stuff: French toast and eggs. Mariah mentioned having a random craving for it the previous day so Hernan made it as a means to lure her downstairs.

“You want syrup, mija?” Hernan asked the kid, a hand towel draped over his shoulder.

Esperanza said she did and said she wanted her toast cut into ‘little baby pieces’. Hernan was way ahead of her on his task and, as expected, Mariah soon made her way down the stairs in spite of looking sleepy.

“Morning,” he said, eyeing her and serving Esperanza her plate. “Want some French toast?”

“Yeah,” Mariah said. She cast their daughter a fond look and smile, going over to kiss her curly hair and caress her chubby cheeks. “Morning, sweetie.”

“Buenos dias Mami,” Esperanza sang, digging in.

“Uh uh, sweetheart,” Mariah protested. “It’s ‘Good morning Mami’. I can't speak all that like you and Papi.”

In Spanish, Hernan told Esperanza to speak English with Mami and Español with Papi. He told her he wanted her to speak both languages easily. Mariah asked her how she slept and Esperanza quickly lapsed into English to talk about the exact same dream she recounted to Hernan. Sure, her English was dotted with Spanish words, but he was pretty sure she could distinguish between the two languages depending on which parent addressed her. His little genius girl was definitely not confused.

He smirked and served Mariah some French Toast once the eggs were ready, pouring Ranza a cup of juice and making Mariah some tea. He’d gotten Saturday morning breakfast down to a science: wake up early, take the kid potty, brush, cut her some fruit, keep her talking, and work on the main course. In the end, everyone had a plate and was happy.

“How did you sleep?” Hernan asked Mariah as she sipped her tea.

“Good, actually,” she said, “I’m glad I had that salad for dinner. I think red meat really messes me up at night.”

“And we went for that walk after dinner,” he commented. “I’m sure the exercise can’t hurt.”

“It can’t,” Mariah agreed. “You going to the gym later?”

“No.” Hernan cast his eyes toward Esperanza and she beamed at him, poking a syrupy piece of toast with her fork and extending her arm to feed it to him. When it disappeared, he told Mariah, “I’m gonna to stick to my new gym by Bryant Park, go only during the week at lunch time. Until this one starts school at least. Then, we’ll see about the gym here.”

“We’ll need the Escalade more often,” Mariah answered, smoothing Esperanza’s curly hair away from her brow. “Sugar doesn’t mind parking his car here to work but I’m sure it’ll be easier in a bigger car to drop her off…”

Hernan shrugged, not necessarily agreeing. It depended on the school and the distance and who was doing what. “I could drop her off in the Benz,” he said.

“And I pick her up with Sugar,” Mariah finished.

“Or vice versa.” Hernan’s once stacked plate was empty within minutes and he moved to make himself some coffee to inhale. “We can work something out. If anything, I’ll take care of both drop off and pick up.”

“What about work?”

“I’ll figure something out. I’m not sure I’ll need to be in Harlem for business all day after a while. It’s going to be more traveling than ‘office hours’ very soon.” 

“So you making money moves now, huh?”

Hernan smirked and shot Mariah a wink. He drank from a cheesy, “#1 Papi” mug Mariah got him, and collected the girls’s soiled plates once they were done.

“Rani, you wanna go to the park today?” he asked his little girl in Spanish from the dishwasher.

Esperanza cheered her consent and asked if they could take her scooter, and if Mami could come too, and Carlos, her stuffed zebra.

“Ask her in English,” he replied.

He observed their exchange with a secret smile. Hernan believed his woman and their daughter were identical, smart as hell and beautiful. Esperanza had Mariah’s eyes and her nose, and that big ass forehead he loved to kiss. When she said she’d come to the park with them, the two girls smiled warmly at each other and right there, he saw that they were an extension of the good that could dwell in the same person.

Hernan still couldn’t wrap his mind around how he and Mariah had made something so good, so pure. Esperanza was the most special child, perhaps because she was their only one. He was a proud father, who didn’t know he had it in him to look after and raise a family, until the birth of his daughter changed everything for him. 

Hernan was a different man now. At last, he put away Shades, even if in truth, his primal instinct to protect his family could very well bring him to kill. For Esperanza, for Mariah, he could kill, if it would keep them safe. But such thoughts were locked away and distant, more often than not, forgotten, as they lived peacefully upstate.

—————————————-

Mariah was aware that her decision to run for election to be councilwoman was hasty, but she didn’t have any time to waste. Her ratings looked good and her team advised her to go for it. She might not get an opening like this for another couple of years. Hernan, who was doing very well for himself and considering opening a club downtown, encouraged her as well. So, Mariah went for it and on the night the polls would close, a big reception was thrown to celebrate the winning council member.

Her slogan? A WINNING RECORD, to play on the fact that her opponents used her large criminal record to criticize her. She was pretty sure she was going to win but Mariah also braced herself for an unexpected loss. To be honest the entire campaign had proven taxing both physically and emotionally. She couldn’t remember the last time she was home for dinner for more than two consecutive nights. Hernan never complained about it, saying he understood this was an important time. But he was a big boy. It was Esperanza whom Mariah worried about.

Their child was 3 ½ years old and wouldn’t stop growing, no matter how much Mariah longed for her to shrink back to cute toddler size just for a second. Soon she wouldn’t be able to lift the girl. Mariah wanted to be there for all of Ranza’s childhood and, when work took her away, she felt guilty and worried she wasn’t an adequate mom. On the bright side, knowing Hernan was mainly the one looking after Ranza soothed her worries a bit. Those two were best friends, thick as thieves, and Hernan disagreed but, Mariah was pretty sure they didn’t always notice when she missed bath time or bedtime. Six out of seven nights, Hernan read Esperanza bedtime stories in Spanish, and Mariah considered father-daughter quality time to be just as important.

They were invited to the reception this evening. Esperanza would have to skip preschool the following day, if this ended up being a late night, but Hernan had mentioned taking a day off to run some errands. To Mariah that meant he’d also play daddy-daycare and haul the little one around all day. Smiling through the reception, Mariah tried not to check her phone and wonder where her man and baby girl were. There was plenty to eat and drink at the reception but she was sure Hernan and the kid would have a bite at home before heading over, considering what time he usually got her from preschool, and how long it would take them to drive to Harlem from upstate.

“Sugar.” Mariah caught sight of the driver turned bodyguard and touched his arm, liking that he was never far. “If you see Hernan and the baby before me, let me know. I still need to make the rounds through the room and I don’t know when they’re coming.”

“You got it, madam councilwoman,” Sugar replied and Mariah smiled at him.

“Don’t jinx me, man. I haven’t won yet.”

As important as winning was to her, she couldn’t help but get distracted extremely often and check the door or scan the hall for Hernan. They were supposed to have arrived at least thirty to forty minutes ago now, but Mariah knew getting a 3 year old ready and out the house was no small feat. She smiled when she had a moment, briefly imagining these two yapping away in Spanish instead of getting in the car. Hernan was so good with their daughter, so perfect. She hadn’t told him this yet but, having more children with him crossed her mind more than once.

They certainly had the space and money for it. Esperanza could have someone to play with and Hernan could do that super dad thing he did all over again and melt her heart. Mariah checked her phone, seeing a text from him dated about 20 minutes ago. 

_On our way._

She breathed deeply, helped herself to something to eat, and joined her colleagues and competitors in front of the polling screens. Mariah was in the lead and feeling good all around. There was only another hour or so to go before a winner was declared. Even while she ate and chattered and jokes were cracked, she couldn’t wait to see her family. A victory would be that much sweeter with them around.

Forty minutes later, her opponent, the current councilman, shook her hand and publicly threw in the towel.

“We still need the final numbers!” she said, trying to act humble, though it was clear she was to be the victor.

Then the polls closed and Mariah’s team gave a loud cheer of success. Music filled the reception hall and her party people shook her hand. Mariah must have said ‘thank you’ a hundred times. She turned to catch Sugar’s eye at one point and he shook his head. Still no sign of Hernan.

Mariah made the shape of a phone with her digits and mouthed _Call him_. Sugar moved aside to do as bid and she continued her victory lap until it was time to give her speech. Mariah took her place on the stage in the victor’s chair as a few remarks came before her speech. She was congratulated and praised and Mariah smiled, not daring to look at the crowd, because those first two seats reserved for her family were still empty. Where the hell was Hernan? What if something happened?

At last Mariah was called up to deliver her victor’s speech. The attendees clapped loudly for her, though it stood to question whether some of them meant it or not. While she waited until they quieted, she caught sight of Sugar’s large figure discreetly making its way through the rows. To her immense relief, he was followed by Hernan who was dressed in a dapper grey striped suit, carrying Esperanza who wore a lovely yellow dress, in one strong arm. Mariah had seen a lot of frazzled parents in her life but, Hernan was always calm, always put together. And he just looked so damn fine walking over, bad ass bitch in his bespoke suit, hair greying, adorable daughter in tow, and yeah he was mad late but so what - he was here now, wasn’t he?

The smile that showed on her face widened as they approached the stage and to take their respective seats in the front row. Ranza’s hair was slicked back into the two puffs from that morning and her sunny face made everything better.

“Mami!” she called out waving, her small voice cutting through the quiet audience eagerly awaiting Mariah’s speech. Hernan discreetly murmured something to her, probably to be quiet for a second, before he cast Mariah an apologetic look.

In turn, Mariah blew them both a kiss and lapsed into her speech, thanking her team, speaking of her plans as councilwoman to reshape Harlem. It was well delivered and she spoke succinctly, even if, once in a while, she heard Esperanza loudly say something in Spanish to Hernan, only for him to place a finger to his mouth or encourage her to whisper her query instead. They were so cute, Mariah couldn’t help but call them out.

“Last but certainly not least,” she said, “this victory is for my family. My partner and the best daddy to our daughter, Hernan Alvarez, and my beautiful, _chatty_—“ The crowd chuckled at this, “and incredibly smart daughter, my little princess, Esperanza. Wave, sweetie!”

The little girl did as she was asked. Hernan took her in his arms and kissed her dimpled cheek, looking proudly over at Mariah as he shot her a wink. She felt the longing to expand their family rise in her and couldn’t wait to come from the podium to kiss him.

——————————————

By the time Esperanza was 4 years old and starting kindergarten, Hernan was not only a successful arms dealer, he owned a club downtown without having to manage it every night like the Paradise. He had people for that now. He had people for everything, just like his councilwoman. He and Mariah were ballin’ in a way they had only dreamed of a few years ago, really having it going for them. Most days Mariah dropped off their kid at school and then Hernan came back upstate early to get her in the afternoon. They very rarely switched this order unless other work plans got in the way.

They may have had people for everything but when it came to their daughter, their only child, Hernan didn’t willingly leave things he could control to someone he paid. Ranza didn’t really need a nanny around unless he was traveling and Mariah couldn’t take an afternoon off. The number of people who knew the details of their child’s whereabouts during the day was limited to Sugar and one of their neighbors, with a kid around the same age.

He liked to pick her up from school. Esperanza always had a big smile on her face when she saw him and she always gave him a hug. Most often, he took her bag from her and asked about her day. He and Mariah met her teacher, Ms. Brown, in the fall. Hernan hadn’t really expected to see the blonde too often but the woman was always around at dismissal and she always had something to say.

“Your daughter is so bright, Mr. Alvarez.”

“Looking sharp as always, Mr. Alvarez.” This, because he was often in a suit, except for the odd time he’d come get his daughter on a day off, after hitting the gym. 

That day, Ms. Brown gaped, and said something along the lines of, “Mrs. Alvarez is so lucky… t-to have such a curious and intelligent daughter.”

Hernan chuckled and said thanks, carrying his kiddo off to the car so they could get home for a snack. The same afternoon, as she worked on her ‘homework’ (some simple math and a lot of coloring) on the kitchen island while Hernan followed up on emails, Esperanza surprised him by asking why her Papi and Mami weren’t married.

“What do you mean?” he replied softly in Spanish. 

“Today Ms. Brown called Mami Mrs. Alvarez, but Mama’s name is Mariah Dillard. How come you’re not married?”

Hernan, taken by surprise, watched as she continued her school ‘work’ like the question was as natural as inquiring about the weather.

“I never asked her to marry me,” he replied.

“Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?”

“Why did you never ask Mami to marry you?” Ranza looked up momentarily. “You always tell Mami you love her.”

“I tell you I love you too, mija,” he smiled, trying to throw her off scent.

“Claro, because I’m going to marry you when I grow up Papi,” Esperanza replied, making Hernan laugh. “If you ask Mami to marry you, she can be Mrs. Alvarez and that way Ms. Brown won’t make the same mistake.”

Hernan reflected quietly on that for some time. He had not asked Mariah to marry him in the past because he knew they were meant to be. In his head, he already considered her his wife. She was the mother of his only child, and she was solely his. Plus, Mariah hadn’t seemed like she really wanted a wedding, else he was sure she would have said something. Still, Esperanza had a point.

“Mija,” he said seriously. “Do you want your Mami and I to be married?”

Ranza cast him a grin, her cheeks dimpling endearingly. “Yes, Papi.” 

“Did you talk to her about this?”

She shook her big curly Afro ‘no’.

“Good.” Hernan shut his laptop and went over to her side. “Let’s keep it that way. Maybe we can surprise her.”

Esperanza loved surprises and she cheered so loudly the little sound pierced into Hernan’s eardrum while he tried to calm her. She was the happiest kid he’d ever seen and she gave him so much life and energy. Hernan wished he could give her a sibling but he knew long ago she would be Mariah’s last child. Maybe he could get her a dog instead when she was a little older.

Taking her child-like request more seriously than he probably should have, Hernan purchased a ring several days later. He was inspired and decided to propose because he wanted to be everything to Mariah, including her husband. And he wanted to make Esperanza happier. The man had some ideas on how to execute it, a fancy dinner, some kind of outing, but he knew that it would be a merrier occasion with their daughter around. Thus, he decided to do it at home, on a casual evening together so as not to arouse Mariah’s suspicions.

She often got home much later than he did, since he was on kindergarten pickup duty. That meant Hernan had all afternoon to get ready. On the decided day, he took Esperanza to the store to get some groceries for a meal and dessert, and once home they got to work. The kid was a good helper, even if she struggled to crack an egg without being grossed out. He told Esperanza once the food was ready that he was going to ask Mami to marry him tonight, thus she had to keep it secret until after Mariah had the ring.

To buy her silence, Hernan got Ranza a party horn and some confetti she could throw around (should Mariah say yes).

“Of course she’s going to say yes, Papi,” Esperanza chided, sounding just like Mariah for a moment, if his woman spoke Spanish anyway.

Dinner time came, Hernan kissed Mariah welcome back, and they sat as usual at their kitchen table to dig in. Esperanza looked like she might burst from excitement and Hernan was worried she would say something before he had time to actually pop the question.

“Me and Ranza baked a little something today,” he casually told Mariah.

“Oh, really? Y’all bake now?” Mariah turned from him to beam at their little girl. “What did you make with Papi, sweetheart? Cookies again? Cause y’all burnt them the last time.”

“No, it’s not cookies.” Esperanza grinned, squirming in her seat, and said in Spanish, “Papi, can I please bring it? Pleaaaaase?”

Hernan nodded. “Let me help you.”

Mariah looked from one to the other as they made their way over to the stove. Her eyes narrowed at the way they whispered in Spanish and she turned in her seat.

“What you two whispering about over there?” she asked, arm over her chair. “Mami no habla español, remember?”

That line was all the Spanish Mariah knew, bless her. Personally, Hernan never thought he’d use the language again, but something changed in him when he first held Esperanza in his arms. He knew at that moment she would grow up fluent, if he could do something about it. They drew a tray out of the oven. It had cooled down considerably and the cupcakes didn’t look half bad. Hernan served three. Mariah’s especially was beautiful and the ring was inside, just below the light frosting.

“This one is yours, Mami,” Esperanza carried it over proudly, depositing it before Mariah, who asked her if she wasn’t having any.

“Grab your party stuff,” Hernan told the kid in Spanish. She zipped off to the play area and when she did, his heart beat faster in his chest as the moment to propose came.

“You sure cupcakes was a good idea?” Mariah asked him when he brought another plate over. “I mean she’s not gonna sleep from bouncing off the walls. You know she got so much energy already.”

“I’m sure.” Hernan smiled at Mariah, how unsuspecting she looked. She was the woman of his dreams, from the time he was a little boy. “Try the frosting,” he told her.

Mariah didn’t need telling twice, using her finger to peel off the first layer, just like he thought she would. 

“Mmm.. oh—“

She saw the ring and went absolutely still. Hernan drew a breath and got down on one knee.

“I should have done this a long time ago,” he began. 

Mariah covered her mouth with her hands and her eyes grew large as she turned them to him. 

“Mariah Stokes Dillard, mama, my partner, my baby momma—“ Her eyes brightened at this as she choked back a laugh. “My emergency contact, my ride or die, my favorite person, the love of my life; and, in my head, my wife. I thought to make it official by asking you, will you marry me?”

“What am I going to with you,” she said, pulling herself together. “Yes, Hernan. Of course I’ll marry you. Yes, yes.”

Hernan rushed to his feet to take her in his arms. Esperanza, with her party horn, cheered her way inside and tossed confetti on them. She was more thrilled than the bride to be.

“Is this what y’all were planning?!” Mariah realized, kissing their daughter when Hernan picked her up.

They were all smiles. “You were right, mija,” Hernan told the little girl. “Mami said yes.”

“Mami can you change your name to Alvarez so we all match?” Ranza asked.

“Girl, do you see your daddy’s fine ass?” Mariah replied. Hernan didn’t have the heart to say ‘language’. He was going to marry his woman. “Of course I’ll change my name, sweetie. I don’t want to stay a Dillard forever.”

“You can be the only Alvarez in the house who can’t speak Spanish,” Hernan teased with a smirk.

In response, Mariah looked at him like she sometimes used to when he’d put a baby Ranza to sleep, that ‘you’re the father of my child’ heart-eyed look, and said, “I don’t know about ‘only one’.” Mariah reached for Esperanza’s cheek and patted it fondly. “Sweetheart, how would you like being a big sister?”

Hernan went still, the smirk dying on his face. 

“Are you serious?” he asked, as it became clear not just to him how he’d longed to raise more than one child.

It was not something he’d ever brought up. Esperanza was a happy accident and the love of both their lives, their solace and their saving grace. But another kid, a bigger family, was something so real, the idea filled Hernan with immeasurable joy.

Esperanza cheered for a little brother or a sister. It didn’t matter to her. Hernan’s eyes grew moist.

“I am,” Mariah said. “Let’s get married and have another baby.”

With the girl still in one arm, Hernan reached for Mariah with his free hand and drew her to him. 

“I love you,” he sighed and kissed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have loved writing this fic and feel very proud to have completed it. Please have a look at the mood board (in summary) I’ve created for it if you’re so inclined.


End file.
